Endgame
by Icameheretohavefun
Summary: My first ever fanfiction story. In my mind, Steve and Catherine belong together. So this is my take on what could happen. Set after S09E10.
1. Chapter 1

This is definitely a McRoll story, so don't read if you ship differently. I will update as inspiration and time allow. Reviews welcome. The usual disclaimers apply. Eventual M rating, whenever I get to it. Otherwise, K.

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**The reckoning**

**Bitterroot Ranch, Montana**

**December 2018**

Joe White is dead. The idea keeps repeating in his mind, in a loop. Steve had held Joe's lifeless body in his arms, until his former mentor, friend and almost father, really, had turned cold. What a contrast, between the most gorgeous sunset he's ever seen, and how dark his soul feels, right now. He wants to scream at the sun, the mountains, the trees and the birds; he feels like reaching for the perfect display of nature and ripping it away, as if it's a backdrop designed for a play that's ended. It all feels fake, foreign, artificial, stupid… oh, so stupid! Joe had taken a bullet for him, and Steve had failed to save him. He feels numb to everything around him, a dangerous place to be, considering the circumstances. Nothing registers; not the smell of the grass, the view of the mountain peaks, the sound of horses in the distance or the feel of the cold settling in. Or maybe he welcomes it, as a stark reminder that from this moment on, he should no longer feel warm, contented, comfortable, or happy – much like Joe. At this moment, he doesn't care if twenty more guns for hire show up and try to take him out. He needs the punishment, this is all his fault. And what the hell had Joe played at, calling off the Med Evac and leading him to that tree? He could've been saved!

Steve feels angry tears streaming down his face, as images of Joe come to his mind. Wallowing in grief is just not a sensible thing for him to allow himself to do right now, but he can't help it and lets the emotion carry him, hands shaking, eyes swollen. His legs give way, and he feels an uncontrollable nausea taking hold of him, chest oppressed by a gigantic weight, breathless, mouth dry and papery. Being here is making him physically sick. His first and most primal instinct had been to run away, to disappear from this reality, to erase the day's events and start anew. But he knows, from past experience, that the death of a comrade in arms is not something he will ever be able to make sense of. They happen and you deal with them as best you can. Steve drops to his knees and sits on his legs, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his midsection. He sits there for several minutes, stone cold still, as if hoping that this has all been a bad dream and he is about to wake up.

He'd called NCIS and reported Joe's death; then he'd gone through the Military notification detail, leaving the circumstances to be explained on site. It was bad enough having to do it once; twice was unbearable. Steve just wanted to be left alone, but knew that was one wish he would not be granted. He'd carried Joe's body back to the ranch, on his horse, and laid him down next to Cole's, for the authorities to deal with the formalities. He'd sat down next to them, in front of the bullet-riddled house, and waited. Oblivious to everything, except his own thoughts attacking him relentlessly, he'd alternated between refusal to accept that Joe had called off the Med Evac, to thinking what could've happened, had it come; between better protecting his body, during the shootout to wishing he had been the one to take the bullet. Why, God, why did it have to be Joe? His whole life felt surreal, at this point, dizzyingly unpredictable, numbing him, rendering him immobile. His anger was palpable, and directed at the person he was sure had betrayed them all: Greer. He'd never actually believed that she would have the courage to betray their identities to the same people she had worked against, to protect her country; such level of evil was beyond his understanding. On some level, he was also berating himself for having been such a bad judge of character, when it came to that woman. Slowly, clouded by his pain, profoundly angry, a plan had started to form in his mind, something that hadn't occurred to him until that moment. He would avenge their deaths, even if it cost him his life. All of them. Joe and Cole's bodies had eventually been taken by the coroner and he had given statements to the police as well, refusing to move from the cabin to have his injuries tended to. He'd patched them up as best he could, with the first aid kit in the gun room and resumed his position on the porch, as a sentinel guarding his prisoners, tears once again rolling down his face as both men were taken away from the land of the living.

Joe – he had been more than a father figure, more than a protector, more than a mentor. He'd been a second father, both in terms of his personal life, but also his life in the Navy - SEALs and beyond. He'd been the one to save his ass on so many occasions, to help him find his mother (skirting around the issue more times than Steve had wanted to allow him to, but he'd ultimately understood why), to make him ask Catherine out on a date (and look where that'd gotten him, he thought, with a mix of happiness and sorrow), to ultimately die protecting him. He had once dismissed Steve's thanks for everything he'd done for him, proud of the man he'd become and the people he'd helped, all these years. With his mother in parts unknown, Steve feels that he has, once again, lost his male father figure to the job. Or the consequences thereof. He closes his eyes and let a lone tear fall, allowing himself the perceived weakness since there is no one about. He's tired. For too long, now, his life has been all about the job. Nothing but the job. He's put his life in danger more times than he cares to admit, and the return has always been a sense of fulfilment, of job well done, of completion. Helping others has always been his motivation, and that feeling always propels him forward. He doesn't know how to be different. His life has always been a succession of dedication and obeying orders, ever since was sent to the Naval Academy, as per his father's instructions, under Joe's watchful eye. Even his relationship with his sister became irreparably damaged and cut short by his mother's "death", and he hasn't yet been able to mend it, since moving back to Hawai'i. And then, there's the woman he loved. With whom he'd been for over 10 years. Catherine. She had also left. Claiming to need something of hers in this world. And broken his heart in turn. He feels all those compounded losses now, not just Joe's. It's unbearable.

Then, his mind wanders back to the reason he is now sitting on a bench, on a ranch, in Montana, the last of a team of highly trained brothers in arms, and his chest feels the rush of adrenaline, the breaking pain and the horrid reminder of what has just happened, and that his life will never again be the same. If he wants to contact his mother now, who will he turn to? Joe was his last link to her… maybe not, he thinks, bitterly, a second later. Unfortunately, there is Catherine (another pang). How ironic that the worst possible choice of a job, by her, has now turned into an indirect link to his mother, for him. But he wants nothing to do with it, he thinks, with childish anger. Wouldn't even want to consider going to her with such a request. That would be akin to accepting her decision, profiting from it, belittling the pain he'd felt when she'd left him sitting on that porch, ring box burning a hole in his cargo pants' pocket, unable to believe that she was just giving him that half assed excuse and breaking his heart yet again. The feeling of dread at her imminent departure, much the same as he feels right now. Lost. Without direction. He'd been aimlessly wandering the fields with Joe's body propped on the horse, trying to make sense of it all. Of the purpose of it all. Of the reason for the death of such a good man. Of why he always had to be surrounded by guns, shootouts, stark and sterile interrogation rooms, phone calls, immediately being on the go, to save someone else, while his own life was in pieces. Dad dead. Mother presumed dead, then not so much, then suddenly alive, then missing without any possibility of connecting with her. Sister gone to the mainland too young, and the connection lost. Aunt dead. Joe dead. Catherine gone and very difficult to reach, but no longer his girlfriend.

Danny, Chin, Kono, Lou, Grace, Charlie, Adam, Junior, Tani, Noelani and Kamekona are his Ohana at present. They're great, they've carried him through many an incident, accident, medical emergency and downtime, but they have their own families and some of them other jobs, to keep them busy. Even Danny, his partner, has Grace and Charlie. And Rachel. However much he tries to deny it, Danny loves Rachel. He hasn't yet forgiven her, but he loves her. They're a lovely family. What does he have to show for, after all these years of hard work and selfless dedication? That is tangible, palpable? A transplanted liver and radiation poisoning! And lots of scars, physical and psychological. No wife, no girlfriend, just an aching heart. No house in the suburbs, no children to fill it, no white picket fence, no minivan…. He snorts and thinks, ironically, that he does have a dog. Well, at least that. And then how out of place he and Catherine would look in a 'suburban house, white picket fence, minivan and soccer practice' scenario. Or… maybe not. Maybe it wouldn't be that outlandish, or crazy. Suddenly, Steve breaks out of his reverie and realises that his mind has wondered to Catherine immediately, when thinking of his life's achievements – or lack thereof. But Lynn is the woman he dated last. Suddenly, he remembers Joe's words, as well as Wade's:

\- "Steve, don't wait as long as I did to find someone. I sat out too long and I don't want that to happen to you", Joe had told him, while they were prepping the guns in the middle of the back room. At that time, too, his mind had immediately wandered to Catherine, Lynn forgotten. "Find yourself a good woman and settle down." Problem is, the only 'good woman' he'd ever wanted to settle down with, hadn't wanted to settle down with him.

_Catherine. Their history was long and winded, but he'd never stopped loving her, one way or another. He sadly suspected he never would. She'd gone away, leaving his heart broken and every fiber of his being raw, a feeling worse than many a torture he had endured during his time with the SEALs. In time, he had slowly managed to pull himself back together. But the void, the gaping hole, had remained, skilfully stashed away in a secret compartment of his heart and mind. He'd tried to fill it with another love, but after a couple of years of really trying to fool himself into thinking that maybe he'd managed to replace her, she'd come back to ask for his help in finding a terrorist. Lou had warned him against helping, glaring at him behind her back, but they had always been friends and he didn't want a terrorist with uranium running around free on his island. At least, that's what he had told himself. He knew he would never refuse anyone help, let alone Catherine. The familiarity of being close to her once again felt so comforting, so smooth… so natural. Her smile, her beautiful brown eyes, her easygoing nature, how well she knew him, all made him secretly reminisce back to the time they were happy on the island, living together._

_They'd talked about common, run of the mill things, like Tani and he'd even given her a compliment about having a good heart, which she'd immediately thanked him for, and teased him about his bad habits in return. They had managed to reach a new friendship normal, or so he thought, avoiding the mines along the road of 'the' conversation. But immediately after that, she'd asked him about Lynn and how their relationship was doing, and deep down, he'd been thrown for a loop; to her face, he had nervously smiled to disguise the pang directed at his heart. He'd been almost non-committal, barring not acknowledging Lynn's presence in his life; he'd told Catherine, laughing, that he and Lynn were 'keeping it casual', when the truth was far from that. They saw each other several times a week, they slept at each other's houses often and had what everyone else would class as 'a committed relationship'. He was, for all intents and purposes, her boyfriend, and she, his girlfriend. So why had he succumbed to the need to play his relationship down, to Catherine's face? To convey the idea that their relationship was casual, so casual to the point of him not even considering her his girlfriend? _'No big deal'_, Steve thought, trying to justify his actions, _'I never called Catherine my girlfriend, too_'. And then… why had he been unable to just let that topic of conversation die? Why had he asked her about her dating status, in return? He had heard what he hadn't wanted to hear, although he suspected that answer had been nothing more than Catherine trying to save face, for both their sakes. In the end, she had left again, off to her CIA missions and her enemy combatants and he had stayed, heart in uproar, left to do the math of that visit. Feelings for Lynn vs. dormant feelings for Catherine, skillfully and painfully stashed away in the deep recesses of his mind and heart. _

_From that day forth, he'd given Lynn some half assed excuse about being on duty more often, now, and had taken to staying late at the office, not wanting to go back to a home that was missing 'her'. As though she was a physical piece missing from it, like the house was not complete without her, and bringing another woman into it and into his bed had somehow been a betrayal. He wondered why those thoughts were only now coming into his mind, but suddenly realised that his anger towards Catherine had faded into a lull, a remnant of a reason that he had desperately needed to cling on to, to continue to have the moral high ground on her departure. And one night, he'd just woken up, startled to realise that he'd dreamt of her, and felt an overwhelming urge to know where she was, what she was doing, who she might be dating, if she'd ever come back. To him. The thoughts just came rushing, like a dam had burst open and then, he just knew. There was no point in leading Lynn on, in maintaining the farce, in lying to his heart. It was also unfair on Lynn, because she was wasting her time on a relationship with him, and there was no chance in hell of her being able to achieve anything more than what they already had. None whatsoever, he realised bitterly. His heart belonged to another. _

_So he'd had THE talk with Lynn, who, surprisingly, had smiled sadly and accepted what he was telling her. Her comment had been more along the lines of '_I knew this was coming'_, but she'd been at peace with his decision. She loved Steve, she'd told him, but knew that his heart wasn't in it and thanked him for being honest with her, for giving her the chance to move on and find the love of her life - as he had done. That elicited a quizzical look of surprise from him, because she'd always seemed so innocent, so "there in passing", never there to bring deep feelings or attitudes out of him, and Lynn had further explained. She'd told him that when they'd started dating, she'd had hopes of building a life with him, but as time had passed, and especially after Catherine had showed up to go help him rescue his mother, and he'd retracted into himself with anger towards her, she'd realised that there was a part of his heart, hidden away even from her, that belonged to that woman, that would always belong to her and that he didn't want to let go of. Sort of like a wound that he bled, on occasion, as the ancients used to do blood lettings to alleviate the pressure. Her exact words had been: '_We're not for each other, in this life, Steve. I don't know who my person is, or if I'll ever find him, but you… you've found yours. It's a shame that you keep refusing to see such a clear truth.'_ Naturally, he'd never explained the circumstances of his and Catherine's breakup to Lynn._

_She'd kissed him warmly on the cheek, bid him farewell, asking him not to contact her in the near future and her parting words were that she wished that he would be able to find his way back to the woman he loved, because he was a good man and he deserved to be happy (_'oh, the irony'_, he thought, _'she told me that once about you'_). And she then went on to say that she suspected that he would only ever be happy with her. So, whatever he needed to do to get her back, he should. She had left him in silence, sitting in his living room, in the dark until late that night, stunned to his core. Lynn understood a great deal more than he had given her credit for. By the time he'd gone to bed, he was inwardly thanking her for everything she'd told him, even the parts that hurt too much to even consider. But he hadn't acted on any of the advice Lynn had gracefully given him, unable to bring himself to face the possibility of yet another rejection. Being rejected by Catherine hadn't 'hurt like hell'; it had knocked the air out of him, sent him reeling, really broken him, made him think that he would never, ever be able to open his heart up to anyone, ever again, to laugh, be happy, sit in one of the white-washed Adirondack chairs, near the ebb and flow of the water's edge and just stare at the dying sun with a beer in his hand and be at peace. He'd been able to achieve that, after many long months, and he would have to be very, very careful about putting himself back in such a position again._

Steve suddenly realises he's been thinking about Catherine for a long time. He needs to call her, he thinks with apprehension. His heart always aches when he sees her, and right now he feels so raw, so damaged and sad, that he does not know how he will react to seeing her. Will she be solace, or even more pain? Regardless, the thought of not calling is unthinkable, not only because she'd want to come to the service, he is sure, but also because he desperately needs to see her, one way or the other. She belongs to this part of his life, he thinks with sadness, since he can't say that about the last 2 years and three months of their lives. Joe had been the one responsible for getting them together, ultimately – how ironic! He'd been the one to make Steve promise he'd call and ask her out. Joe could see what Steve couldn't, and when Steve had given him the _"we'll ruin the friendship" _excuse, Joe had rolled his eyes and pointedly looked at him, until Steve gave up the pretense that he did not have feelings for Catherine, and agreed to ask her out. So it's only right that he and Catherine should see Joe through to his final resting place. Together, as he had intended. Even if life had gotten in the way and they'd parted ways, probably never to be joined again, he thinks with another sad sigh.

Opening the cabin door that he patched up as best he could, Steve sits down on the porch and sighs deeply, thinking of how to go about explaining what happened. She will be alarmed, once he's explained all they've been through at the ranch, he's sure, but there are no two ways about it, it has to be done. He unlocks his phone and looks up Catherine's name on his contact list. He knows that she will very likely not answer the call, and he is now trying to think of how to word the voice message to get her to call him. Whatever it is, he knows, she will be intrigued, as they haven't seen or spoken to each other in about seven months, so for him to be calling… He sighs again, acutely aware that he is procrastinating and taps on her name. The screen changes and a dial tone can be heard; "_too late to back off now_" Steve thinks.

As expected, there is no answer. Hearing her voice on the voicemail pre-recorded message makes him realise he's extremely nervous, heart pounding in his chest and he considers disconnecting the call, but then thinks better of it. She'll see the missed call, wonder what he wants, and wonder that he hasn't left a voice message. Trying to sound upbeat, Steve waits for the "_leave your message after the beep_" part, and starts to talk. He realises instantly that his voice sounds hoarse and rough, but it is too late to do anything about it, now. He hesitates slightly, inwardly cursing for not having done a test run in his head, but presses on, wanting to finish this and end the call quickly. "_Hi, um, Cath…. It's Steve. I, uh…. I need to talk to you. I don't know when you'll hear this call, hope it's soon. Could you please get back to me as quickly as you can? I have, uh… I have some news. Thanks._"

After disconnecting the call, Steve feels like a bumbling idiot for leaving such a message. What is he, when it comes to this woman? A lovesick teenager unable to put two words together, or a Navy officer, a SEAL, the Head of Five-0? Damn it! If just the thought of hearing her voice on the other end of the line leaves him like this, he wonders how he'll feel when he's face to face with her again. Especially with the news he has for her. Steve's heart aches again, when he's brought back to reality and recent events come rushing to his mind. The pain of losing a loved one is always horrific, but Steve feels as though he has literally lost his father once again. The pain is the same, anyway. The prospect of facing life without Joe's presence, of knowing he will be buried in a box, six feet under, is unbearable at the moment.

He considers calling Danny, but for some reason, feels that he needs to keep his grief to himself, to guard against having to tell anyone what happened, and partially deal with his emotions, in the process. Catherine feels different – she'll provide comfort, she'll know what he's going through without him having to explain. He needs her at this moment; he feels the need to not have to explain anything to Danny. Harsh, but that's how it is.

As the mild afternoon sun gives way to a chilling evening, Steve realises he's been sitting on the porch bench for too long, now, immobile. Still no call from Catherine, so he resigns himself to the loneliness, now suddenly unwanted at the prospect of 'her'. Getting up to go inside, he grabs two large logs to feed the fire with, as the nights are very cold. This is not Hawai'i, he thinks, with sadness. Inside, he finds a thin, foam mattress, drags it into the gun room, locks the door and lays down, not really knowing what to do with himself. Sleep will be a hard commodity to come by, he knows, but he needs to rest his body, if not his mind. Tossing and turning in the makeshift bed, tormented by the day's events, Steve gives in to his sadness and cries quietly, late into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

In what feels, to him, like five minutes later, he is alerted by the ringing of his cell phone. At first, Steve's startled and confused, and springs from the mattress, gun at the ready. But taking in his surroundings, he quickly realises what is happening and calms down enough to look for his phone. When he grabs it and sees "Catherine" splayed across the screen, Steve realises that she is calling from her stateside phone and can suddenly feel the furious pounding of his heartbeat against his ears. He takes a deep breath to try to calm himself down and nervously answers the call.

"Hello, Cath?" He says, praying that his voice sounds a little bit more self-assured, but knowing that he's failing miserably.

"Steve? Can you hear me?" comes Catherine's voice, loud and clear, like a drink of lemonade on a hot summer's day. Steve feels elated at the sound of her voice, relief flooding him with an adrenaline discharge, heart clenching at the sudden prospect of seeing her soon, or of her not being able to come. He can't decide which idea causes him more trepidation.

"Cath, Aloha, yes, I can hear you. Did you get my message?" he says, and immediately chastises himself for the stupid question, after all they haven't spoken in months, of course she's heard his message! He opens the door to the gun room and moves to the main room, the night cold hitting his flesh like a harsh wakeup call.

"Yes, I did. Steve, listen, don't be alarmed, but there's a car coming your way. Just stay indoors and don't shoot anyone, OK?" Catherine says, and he can hear the faint smile in her voice.

"OK… What's going on, Cath?" Steve asks, on high alert regardless, but willing to wait out the arrival. He is on edge, but her voice has calmed him down. Despite the whole situation he's in, he's heard her tell him, implicitly, not to panic or freak out.

But Catherine has already disconnected the call and, like once before, he can see the lights from a vehicle quickly approaching and hear the engine roaring. After stopping, he hears a door open and close, and the vehicle starts to move again, sounding more and more distant in the background. Steve waits a few seconds, and then there is a knock. Thinking back to three years before, in what had been a really embarrassing situation, he laughs bitterly to himself and approaches the door, opening it without fear, but instinctively clutching the gun in his hand to his side. The vision that greets him is one of solace, comfort and warmth. At that moment, all grief is forgotten, all is well with the world again, and his heart is at peace. She is here. In front of him. With a sad smile plastered across her face and looking tired as hell, clinging onto a ruck sack and uneasy. She looks at him tentatively, eyebrows raised, but when he smiles at her, she opens her arms and moves forward, hugging him tight and speaking into his ear.

"I heard about what happened, through the grapevine, so I immediately called my handler and told him that I needed to come, no matter what. He made it happen. I know you tried to call me, but I only arrived stateside this morning. I thought about calling, but…"

Catherine lets the reason drop, as though there is no excuse for her missed call, and looks down, trying to suppress a tear. Her eyes are red and he can tell she's been crying. Steve moves forward, uncocks his gun and envelops her in a fierce hug, trying to tell her so much with it… "It's OK that you didn't return my call, you're here now"; "I know, I am mourning his loss, too"; "It's so good to see you"; "Come out of the cold and let me hug you". But he says nothing, immediately taken back to the day before and tries his hardest to dismiss thoughts of Joe from his mind. Tightening his grip on her slender form, he nestles his chin on her shoulder, discreetly reaching for the pulse point on her neck and just lingers there, breathing in her scent, her arms around him, calming him. Her body is the one that best fits the nooks and crannies of his own. He feels comforted by the knowledge that unlike Joe, she's very much alive, but he can't help the sudden panic that assaults him, thinking she might also disappear from his life. Sensing his agitation, but not understanding it, Catherine stays still and holds him, waiting for the wave of emotion to pass through him. She asks no questions, instead deciding to wait for him to talk when he's ready.

Finally, Catherine loosens her grip on Steve and moves her chest and head backwards, looking into his vacant eyes. He looks so tortured, so sad… clearly he hasn't shaved in a while and there's a marked hunch on his shoulders. Her heart goes out to him and she hugs him again, conveying how sorry she is at his loss. He moves aside, breaking contact to allow her passage, and closes the door. Taking her bag from her hands and dropping it on the floor, near the entrance, he leads her to the table, where he lays his gun. Pulling out a chair, he motions for her to sit down, doing the same, and just stares at her, not quite believing she's here. In front of him, mere hours after he's gathered up the courage to call her and leave a message. She feels the need to speak first, breaking him out of the spell he seems to be under.

"How are you"? She asks, leaning forward in the chair and clasping her hands together, nervously realising that she needs something to do with herself, now that she's face to face with this man that meant so much to her, and probably still does. But now is not the time to be thinking of that.

"I'm fine", he replies, not wanting to burden her with his grief, so soon after losing emotional control. He still can't believe she is here, in the flesh, with him, materialized from some cruel hellhole far, far away, he's sure.

"Come on, Steve, it's me", Catherine says, leaning her head to one side and frowning, disbelief evident in her features. "I'll ask again – how are you?"

"How do you want me to be?" Steve replies, realising that even though it's been a long time since they've seen each other and he's not used to her eyes on him, she still knows him too well for him to try to get any emotion past her. "Sad, mad, feeling guilty about Greer, not really able to believe that I've lost a second father and that I'll have to bury him soon…. He was my father when my father couldn't be there. I think it's pretty safe to say my life would be very different if Joe had never come into it. It's crazy to me, how somebody who's not even blood can make such a giant impact, you know? He died to save my life. Again."

"Yeah… and in the end, he was more blood than some other people, let's put it that way…" she says, almost to herself, slowly shaking her head.

"Yeah, you're right. My mom really owes the name some cuddles and sleepless nights", Steve says, pensive. Once again, he realises they understand each other on so many levels, it's frightening.

"As for Greer, you had no way of knowing. That's what makes a double agent good. Don't blame yourself", Catherine says, smiling weakly at him.

"I should've known, damnit!" he says, raising his voice slightly, trying to contain his anger.

"Hindsight is 20/20, you know what they say. And it's true, Steve. Greer worked for the Agency for years, and she knew very well how to pull her strings as well as hide her motivations. Even the people who worked closest with her thought she was kosher, so why chastise yourself? You had no way of knowing. She's the one in the wrong, not you or anyone else."

"I want her", he says, tightening his jaw.

"We'll deal with her when the time comes – that is one of the reasons I was given leave to come here so quickly. The Agency really hates double agents and they got wind that she escaped prison. But first, we need to find out who sent those guys after your team. And before that, we need to focus on laying Joe to rest. He deserves our fullest attention."

"Yeah, you're right", Steve says, not moving, a whirlwind of thoughts making his head ache. The pain he feels is unbearable and all he wants to do is go back to the day before, when the Universe was still a plethora of possibilities and his second father was alive, standing in this same room, giving him relationship advice.

Catherine reaches for his hand and squeezes it, bringing him back to the present. She doesn't utter a word, as she knows Steve enough to know that he needs to process his grief. He looks at her, trying to explain further.

"Cath, he's gone, he died in my arms. I tried to save him, but couldn't", he says, looking her in the eyes, tears springing from his. This is the most vulnerable she's ever seen him, and it's making her uncomfortable to see such a strong, powerful man, so broken.

Catherine gets up and moves to stand behind Steve, embracing him, trying to offer him any little comfort she can. All she manages is to allow him enough privacy to cry openly. She holds on to him and closes her eyes, waiting for him to calm down and his tears to subside. She remembers his father and the pain he must've felt when he was assassinated by a monster; his friend Freddy and the guilt he felt at having to leave him behind in North Korea, to certain death; even his mother's pretend death and all the consequences to the entire family; a pang of guilt assaults her thinking on how he must've felt when she left, without much of an explanation. She knows enough of this man to know that he loved her.

Steve reaches for her arms and strokes them, looking for comfort, leaning back until his head rests on her abdomen. He keeps his eyes closed, prompting Catherine to lean down and rest her chin against his hair, hoping this will tell him that she is here for him. After a few moments, Steve straightens his body and gets up, rubs his eyes to get rid of the tears running down his cheeks and moves to her duffel bag, overwhelmed with emotion. He's been vulnerable enough for the day. Turning to her, he adds, feeling so very tired:

"Come on, let's find you somewhere to sleep."

Catherine follows him silently, knowing full well there's nothing she can say, no words of comfort, which will calm him down or mitigate his sadness. They reach Joe's room and Steve picks up the mattress propped up against the wall and lays it down on the floor, turning to her, awkwardly.

"Sorry, I have no idea where he kept sheets and pillows. I dragged a foam mattress into the gun room and lied down to try and get some rest. That's as far as I managed to get, tonight."

"It's OK, Steve, don't worry about it. I've slept in worse places. I'll rummage the drawers to try and find some sheets. We can take turns sleeping?" Catherine suggests, hoping he accepts her offer of some rest, at least.

"No, no need. I asked local law enforcement for protection, so they'll be patrolling the area 24/7", Steve says, tired.

"Are you sure?" Catherine asks, wondering if they'll be safe nonetheless.

"Yes. Besides, you look like you need a good night's sleep and I feel like I'll never be able to sleep again, so… Besides, I armed the perimeter outside this afternoon."

"Sure you did", Catherine sighs, turning to him after having managed to find a drawer full of bedlinen in the room. "Help me make the bed?" she says, smiling at him, trying to distract him from his thoughts.

"Sure."

Steve tackles the task at hand with military precision, eyes vacant and distracted. Once they are done, Cath heads for the bathroom to get ready to sleep and Steve brings his own mattress from the gun room and lays it on the floor, next to hers. He looks at it with annoyance, unwilling to go in search of another set of sheets, but aware that he shouldn't share hers. He just stands there, indecisive, when she comes back from the bathroom and eyes him with kindness, immediately understanding what's going through his mind.

"Steve, just sleep on the mattress that's already dressed. It's a double, makes no sense to find more sheets, and frankly, I'm really tired. I came back from Turkey this morning and really need to get some sleep, if I'm going to be in any fit state to help, tomorrow", she says, matter-of-factly.

Steve is still hesitant, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?"

"Please. Come on, how many beds in how many countries did we share over the years? It's nothing different, now", she adds, trying to make him more comfortable with the idea, not realising what she's just said.

"Thanks. I'm sure I won't be able to sleep, but I need to rest. We both do."

A few minutes after his head hits the pillow, he's asleep – a fitful, restless sleep, laden with nightmares that will keep him waking up every hour. Catherine lingers a while longer, thinking of the mammoth task they have ahead of them and how they won't be able to pull it through without help. But nothing can be done at this precise moment and sleep claims her minutes later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bitterroot Ranch, Montana**

**The morning after**

**0628 hours**

Catherine stirs awake, immediately sensing that something is not well, but unable to pinpoint what. Suddenly, the events of the day before come to her mind and she sighs, opening her eyes. It's still dark and she is alone in the makeshift bed. Reaching for his side and feeling the cold, she knows Steve has either not slept at all or gotten up long ago. Raising her hand out from under the sheets, she looks at her watch: 0630 hours. Damn. 'Then again, it's no wonder YOU'RE awake, Catherine, you were never any good with jetlag. But where can Steve be, at this hour?'

She closes her eyes again and tries to listen to any telltale noises coming from the other rooms in the house. Complete silence. Starting to feel uneasy, Catherine gets up, cold mercilessly attacking her and making her break out into uncontrollable shivers. She dresses quickly, before moving into the main cabin room, where Steve had welcomed her the night before. Also empty. She looks through the window at the expanse of land in front of her, barely visible with the help of the feeble rays of light claiming the pitch black darkness, and sees nothing stirring. This is her first time in this Ranch, so she doesn't know her way around. Not wanting to brave the outdoors in the dark and unarmed, given what happened two days before, she turns to the kitchen and decides to make some coffee. A few minutes later, Steve enters the main cabin room with another large log for the fire. Catherine realises she hadn't even noticed there was a fire roaring, but is thankful for the warmth that spreads across the room, from it. She says nothing to Steve, as 'Good morning' somehow seems out of place: not only do they seem to have lied down only an hour ago, but also it really isn't a good morning. She turns her back to him and busies herself with the coffee she just started to make. Steve crouches in front of the fire and becomes absorbed in thought, mesmerized by the flames. His thoughts go from the iniquity of feeling comforted by the warmth it gives out to the horror of knowing Joe will be engulfed in them in a few days. He closes his eyes to ward off the pain of his thoughts and sighs deeply, not wanting to go into planning mode just yet. Getting up, he moves toward Catherine and sits down at the table, eyeing her distractedly.

"Want some coffee?" she offers, not turning.

"Yeah, thanks", he replies, tiredness echoed in his voice.

Catherine places a mug of coffee in front of him and reaches behind her, on the counter, for a teaspoon full of butter. She inserts it in his coffee, with confidence, not even thinking to ask if he wants it and starts stirring, until the fat is fully dissolved. Steve can't help but be surprised at her for remembering how he likes his coffee. It seems that no matter how many years they are apart, she'll always manage to surprise him. Catherine grabs a mug for herself and sits down, sorry for feeling the need to go into what happened, again.

"So… want to talk about it?" she says, expectantly.

"Not really, no", he says, lost in thought, suddenly aware of her physical presence. He eyes her with a sideways glance, while smiling ironically. "But if I have to, you're the only person I can bear talking to about it, right now."

"And also the only one here", Catherine says, smiling sadly.

"I haven't called Danny, yet", he says, looking pointedly at her.

"Really?" she asks, surprised. "Hasn't he tried to get in touch? Isn't he worried sick?"

"I guess. I sent him a message saying what happened and turned my phone off. I couldn't…" he says, closing his eyes and sighing deeply, "…go through it again. Even talking about it felt unbearable."

"OK", Catherine says, "and I won't try to pry it out of you. Whenever you want to talk, I'm here, OK?" she says, getting up and grabbing her mug, intent on heading towards the sink.

"But I need to talk about it", Steve says, stopping her mid-rise, mug forgotten, alienated from anything but his pain.

Catherine sits back down and waits until Steve is ready to talk. She knows him well enough to know how hard he's finding all of this to deal with and needs time to put his ideas into order before he opens up.

"Joe called me three days ago, after I'd just been attacked by a man who tried to kill me in the middle of my kitchen…" If Catherine is surprised or alarmed, she doesn't show it. "His warning came a little late", he huffs ironically as he says it, shaking his head at the incredulity of it all. "The man managed to escape, so Joe and I decided to hide out here and come up with a plan to find out what was going on and who was involved. In the meantime, we found out that two more SEAL team members had recently been taken out and realised it was the Morocco team."

"The Morocco team?" Catherine asks, curious.

"Yeah." He looks attentively at her, trying to decide if the solemnity of the moment warrants warnings about confidentiality or if it goes without saying, deciding on the latter. After all, Catherine was Navy and is now CIA, he thinks with sadness. "A SEAL team ordered by the CIA to capture and neutralize a known terrorist, Kamal Hassan. Problem was, inside the compound where he was hiding, there were also twenty five women and children. Greer insisted…"

"Wait, Greer?" Catherine asks, surprised, the name bringing back unpleasant memories.

"Yeah, she was the team leader, the CIA was in charge of the black op. We had qualms about attacking a man living in a house filled with innocent people, but she… she said that not only was he harbouring insurgents in Afghanistan, but also planning a major attack on U.S. interests overseas", Steve says, visibly emotional. "So we invaded the place and eventually managed to take Hassan down. We killed him on the spot", he continues, perturbed. "Problem was, we couldn't avoid killing some of the civilians during the strike. I never, ever forgot that mission. Senseless killing ordered by a heartless Government Agency. I really hate the CIA." Catherine abstains from defending her Agency, deciding to keep quiet and let him continue. She wonders if this is his only palpable reason for hating the CIA, but lets the thought slide. "While trying to find Hassan, we ran into his son playing in the corridors. The whole thing must've scarred him for life. So when he grew up, he bid his time, got together a team and finally decided to get even. With Greer's help. Can't say I blame him, really…", Steve goes on, despondent.

"Come on, Steve, you were under orders. You and I both know what that entails", Catherine counters, leaving no room for argument. She does indeed know what that means.

"Yeah, whatever…", he says, dropping his head, interlacing his fingers and propping his thumbs against the sides of his nose, tired of talking. "When Joe and I got to the Ranch, Cole was already here. He helped us secure the perimeter and set up the traps. Eventually, they got to him. Then they got into the house and another took aim at me. But Joe got in the way and was shot in the flank. I thought we had time to get a Med Evac in, but he called them off, can you believe it? He didn't tell me and made me take him all the way to this clearing he loved, with an old Ponderosa pine, one of the oldest trees in the state. How stupid is it, that I still remember what he told me about it, huh? He died in my arms, Cath, in front of the most beautiful sunset I've ever laid eyes upon. I'm going to hate them for the rest of my life…"

Catherine closes her eyes, unable to imagine what Steve has gone through in the last forty eight hours. Words fail her, as she knows nothing she can say will mitigate his pain. Perhaps trying to make sense of Joe's actions will help in the incredibly difficult process he needs to go through, or at least start, soon.

"Maybe he knew there was no hope and wanted to be at peace at that spot he loved so much, instead of on an airlift, IVs everywhere, being taken to hospital. It was his special place, and he wanted to contemplate it one last time, before he died. He must've sensed his time was coming…"

"He had no way of knowing, Cath. I can't accept that!" Steve says, raising his voice and suddenly getting up.

Catherine remains seated and keeps her voice level, eyeing him with kindness. She knows he must go through the emotional rollercoaster of dipping in and out of grief, losing his grip before regaining emotional control.

"I know. But that's your way of seeing it. Joe felt otherwise, and you must come to terms with his decision. On some level, he must've known he couldn't be saved. So he chose how he wanted to bow out of life, on his terms. You have to forgive him."

"Forgive him? For what?" he says, genuinely puzzled.

"For having done this to you. You're angry and you have every right to be. But ultimately, it was his life, his decision…"

"I'm not angry", Steve says, stubbornly eyeing her.

"You are. And the sooner you realise that, the sooner you'll start the grieving process", Catherine counters, erasing any hint of a smile from her face.

"When did you become such an accomplished psychologist?" Steve asks, pensive.

Catherine laughs at the thought, happy for the momentary reprise in the seriousness of the situation, but says nothing.

"I can't believe he's gone…" he says, sitting back down, pained expression returning to his eyes. "It's like I'm in suspended animation, you know? Like the world outside keeps moving, but I suddenly said: "hey, stop the world, I want to get off!", and I'm here, standing still, watching it spin, angry at it for going on as if nothing had happened, when my world… my own little world has been shattered to pieces. How can anyone want me to function? To consider going back to my life as though all is well? To even be able to care about other people's safety and lives, when one of my own people is no longer here? He was such a good man…", Steve says, finally aware that he's venting at Catherine. "He was so important in my life, you know? He looked after me at the Naval Academy, the amount of times he got me out of trouble…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Starting at 16, when I stole a car at Carlsbad."

"What? You? Mr. Goody Two-Shoes? Who always did everything by the book when he was in the Navy?"

"Hey!" Steve says, sad-amused. "I wasn't in the Navy, then… but I was angry. At my mom, for dying, at my dad, for sending us away, at my sister, for getting to be with aunt Debbie and away from me, even at Joe, for bailing me out when all I wanted was to go back home. But if he hadn't done it, I would've been expelled from the Academy. Would've never gone to the Naval Special Warfare Prep School, would've never become a SEAL. Would've never met you."

Catherine smiles at Steve. "And wouldn't that have been a shame…"

"Good to know you feel that way, Cath. Good to know. Despite everything, I'm really glad we met", Steve says, eyes far, far away.

"Yeah, me too", she says, smiling genuinely at him, wondering exactly what he means by his "despite everything", but pretty sure she knows. Getting up, she decides to lighten the mood with the practicalities of everyday life. "Do you have any bread here, so I can make us some toast?"


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! It's great to know that some of you are enjoying yourselves. I am, too. ;-)

* * *

**The same day**

**1035 hours**

After showering and changing, Catherine exits the cabin and decides to take a stroll outside. Steve is nowhere to be seen, again, but the sun is high up in the sky, so she figures it's relatively safe to explore the outdoors, armed with her gun, just in case. It's a habit she seldom breaks. The cabin she slept in is beautifully placed in the middle of a field, looking out onto a small lane, landscaped with white spruces. In the distance, she can see a large building, which she surmises to be a barn, where she imagines the horses Steve told her about are kept. Despite the cold, it's a beautiful sunny day and she can smell the fresh, clean air.

Catherine starts for the stables, curious about Steve's whereabouts, but also wanting to see the animals. She has always loved horses and horse riding, and after almost two weeks cooped up in a small one bedroom flat in the middle of a Russian town with a 21 Cyrillic-letter unpronounceable name, she loves the feel of the great outdoors, of the freedom it allows her, knowing she can let her guard down, and not have her mind constantly on the mission, on high alert. In her mind, she has weighed the caution she should be exerting right now against Steve's assurances, the night before, and, as usual, the trust she places in him is total. Entering the barn, she can see an American quarter horse already saddled, and hear Steve in another stall. Calling out to him, she comes near and realises he's saddling up another horse, a beautiful animal. She stays perfectly still, admiring both man and beast, until Steve breaks the silence, throwing her a quick glance.

\- "Joe's neighbor is away, a retired army guy," he offers, as a way of explanation. "I figure he won't mind lending us the horses for another day. My rental's been shot to pieces, so I need to go into town to sort that out."

Catherine slowly comes into the horse's field of vision and whispers a "hey, boy", showing him her hand, just below his nose, keeping her fingers together so that he doesn't mistake them for delicious carrots. The animal lowers his head, accepting her, and Catherine strokes his neck, moving up to scratch just behind the ear. While this exchange is taking place, Steve stops what he's doing and just contemplates the scene in front of him, warmed by Catherine's love of the animal and the way she knows exactly how to introduce herself to him.

\- "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone, so I thought you could come with? I know you can hold your own on a horse, so…" he says, not finishing his thought, looking at her half expectantly, half embarrassed.

\- "I can also hold my own here," Catherine says, making her point, but not annoyed. She knows his concern comes from a good place and after what just happened, she understands him perfectly. "But I would really like to get on a horse again and get to know this place. From what I can see, it's beautiful. And I miss riding, it's been way too long."

\- "Good then, that's settled," he replies, smiling at her.

\- "Besides, we also need to do some shopping, remember? That breakfast was very sub-par…" Catherine says, smiling back at him, trying to lighten the mood.

\- "Yeah, I also need to buy some supplies to fix up the place. I patched up the living room and bedroom as best I could yesterday, but I need more wood. Joe would hate to know that I left it as is", he says, seemingly momentarily lost.

A few minutes later, they leave the confines of the stable and start riding towards a large expanse of land that stretches in front of them. Catherine can't help but be impressed by the beauty of the scenery, snowy peaks in the distance, green carpet covering the floor of both forest and meadow. She steals a glance at Steve, but he is understandably immune to the beauty and freedom the ride is affording her. He clicks his heels on the horse's belly and moves away from her, while Catherine remains in her slow pace, headed in his general direction. After a while, Steve slows his horse down to a trot, back still turned to her. She sighs deeply, unsure of what to do: give him his space, or go to him? Catherine decides to keep moving forward, slowly, hoping this will give him time to get a grip on his emotions. As she reaches his side, he throws her a very sad smile, as if saying sorry for leaving her behind and stops, turning to face the clearing.

\- "I feel so helpless… as if all Joe's death do was cruelly prove to me that all this, that we do, is an illusion. We don't protect and save, we are all just one step away from being put in a hole in the ground, ourselves. And then, what does all this matter? We're dead, no more feelings, no more sadness, or sorrow, no more revenge and reckoning. There's peace. That's all," he finishes, defeated.

\- "What about the ones we leave behind, Steve?" Catherine counters, trying to reason with him. "Aren't they worth finding a reason to live for?"

Hearing his name, he is suddenly brought back to the present, realising he wasn't thinking those thoughts, just now, but said them out loud.

\- "I've been left behind on so many occasions," he says, huffing bitterly, not turning to face her, making Catherine once again wonder. "You just try to move on as best you can. Those who disappear from our lives don't care about who they leave behind, you know?" he replies, shrugging his shoulders, turning to her, eyeing her with an angry, pointed look.

Catherine is now sure he's talking about Joe and John McGarrett, possibly his mother, but also her. However, she consciously refuses to be baited by an angry Steve, who also happens to be grieving a very recent death, so she just looks away from him, at the expanse of land in front of her, and clicks her heels on the horse's belly to get him to start moving. She can feel tears prickling at her eyes, and an overwhelming desire to break down and cry, but she also knows that that is the last thing she wants to have happen, right now. Clicking her heels again, the horse starts to trot, and she hopes the motion will distract her from the tears threatening to fall. Hadn't two plus years been enough to resolve this issue in his mind and move forward? Apparently not.

A few minutes later, Catherine reaches a clearing, the beauty of the new scenery now only half managing to console her. Suddenly hearing Steve's horse behind her, fast approaching, but still not ready to face him, she continues to move forward, wishing he'll just let her be by herself. However, no such luck. As she hears his voice calling out to her, Catherine brings her horse to a halt, rather suddenly, and dismounts, defeated by anger. She can feel a force propelling her forward, urging her to run away from any confrontation. Steve quickly reaches her side and slows down, walking in silence for a few minutes, agitated, trying to collect his thoughts, fully aware that he must give her time to calm down.

\- "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. None of this is your fault," he says, hoping she'll stop walking.

\- "But that's just it, isn't it? On some level, I am part of the problem, aren't I?" Catherine answers, swerving back and eyeing him directly. "You can't help but group me with your Dad, your mom and Joe. We all 'abandoned' you," she says, making air quotes. "That's how you see it, isn't it? Difference is, two of them are now dead and the other missing, in parts unknown. I'm the only one here, facing you. The only one you can lash out at," she ends, immensely sad.

\- "Come on, Cath, that's not fair," he says, pulling her arm, as though to impress her with the veracity of his affirmation, and he looks so lost, so broken, it literally hurts her inside.

\- "Isn't it? I wonder, Steve… deep down, how angry are you, at me, still?" Catherine replies, unable to contain her tears, mentally kicking herself for having gone there, in the end.

Surprised by her incisive question, Steve suddenly realises that he is indeed still very angry at her for what went down between them. Of course, he's compounding all his losses into one – Joe - at this moment and she's mere collateral damage, but the fact of the matter is that she also contributed to the sense of loss he's feeling right now. Catherine walks a few steps in the direction of the clearing, defeated, and slowly sits down on a hollow tree trunk. She contemplates the scenery, but her full attention is on the man standing a few yards away. Suddenly, she can hear the rustling of meadow grass growing louder, and knows he's coming closer. Steve slowly sits down next to her and sighs, looking ahead as well.

\- "I'm sorry." He offers no more apologies or explanations. "I guess this is a conversation we should've had two years ago, on that plane. The way we handled it was… ridiculous. We never talked about it, we've let it fester and rot."

\- "There was no reason to, Steve, we had both moved on. I guess I had just hoped…" she says, letting the words die on her lips, not wanting to say something she may regret.

\- "What? Hoped what?" He prods, suddenly hoping he can get a glimpse into what made her act the way she did. This may be the best chance he'll ever get of getting to the bottom of this matter. At this point in his life, he got closure on something he didn't ask for, so now he may as well get to the end of his other open-ended issues.

\- "That given where you are, right now, in your life, you'd been able to let the past stay in the past, that's all," Catherine says, eyeing him seriously.

\- "And where exactly is that, Catherine?" he continues, unsure of what she means and unable to contain himself.

At the use of her full name, Catherine realises Steve is serious about going into THE conversation. And that's the last thing she wants, right now. Because this is not the place, now is not the time, and these are certainly NOT the circumstances to be doing this in. She actually doubts there will ever be an adequate time or place to go into what happened between them, but it can't possibly be now, with him grieving such a recent death. Their window has passed, the usefulness of rehashing their breakup had, until now, seemed futile to her, as they'd reached a new friendship normal. Apparently, she was wrong.

\- "Look, we are getting sidetracked, right? We're here for a reason, a couple, really, and I don't want to go into anything else. Can we agree to bypass that subject while I'm here?"

Her words say this much, but her eyes say so much more. Steve can tell she, too, is in pain, and he wonders what else is going on with Catherine. For a moment, the ache in his heart is a tiny bit magnified by her words, but he finds consolation in the knowledge that he'll have her to himself for days and maybe, just maybe, another opportunity may arise for them to speak openly about the huge elephant in the room. Steve leans into her, sighs deeply, smiles and gives in, _"for you, anything."_ Sometime later, they both ride into town, in companionable silence, each mulling over the conversation. They both feel too much has been left unsaid and while one hopes to go back to it, the other one's hope is that it will never come to that.


	5. Chapter 5

By mid-afternoon, they are back at the ranch. While Steve busies himself with properly fixing the bullet and RPG holes left by the attack on the house, Catherine sets up shop in the back room, where they slept. She pulls the chest of drawers from the wall, lays her laptop on it and busies herself with what she does best: Intel gathering. From what Tani was able to find, Kamal Hassan's son, Omar, a 26-year old shipping company CEO, is the man behind the attacks. But apparently, they were all orchestrated by his savvy lawyer, in Copenhagen: Gregers Thomsen. So naturally, not only is Catherine very curious about him, but she also knows that he's their best bet to get to Hassan.

A few hours later, Catherine has managed to find some information on the lawyer: criminal record, work and home addresses, personal and work relationships, financial records, recent call log and text transcripts. She orders the extraction of more information on the target, namely background checks, preferences and habits, surveillance, and the monitoring of his emails and phone calls, from that moment on. She also requests equipment interference, so they can covertly access the lawyer's computers or other devices and the extraction of any and all information contained in CCTV cameras, routers and servers belonging to his office. Suddenly, she closes her eyes, leaning her head backwards, neck stiff from the hours attentively facing the computer and hears Steve coming her way.

\- "Any luck? I'm done in the living room, going to move to the corridor."

\- "Yes, got a lot of intel, but now I have to sift through it", she says, rubbing the back of her head. "I also requested some more stuff, so we'll have to wait for it to come in."

Suddenly, she spots a red stain on Steve's cargo pants, realising it must be one of the injuries he sustained during the attack. Catherine hesitates for a millisecond, not knowing how this will go, but aware that the wound must be checked out.

\- "You're bleeding from your wound. Come here, let me check it out."

\- "What, this?" He says flippantly, dismissing her concern with a flick of the hand.

\- "Did you get it checked out? As in, at a hospital?"

\- "No, I took care of it myself. I managed fine."

\- "Clearly. Can I have a look, please?" Catherine insists, wanting to make sure. She gets up and collects the first aid kit from the gun room.

Steve tries not to look directly at her computer; he feels as though everything that comes from the CIA is tainted, and he stubbornly wants nothing to do with it. His heart constricts, knowing that Catherine works for them and he tries hard to dismiss that thought from his mind, choosing to view her still as his Navy colleague, or better, 5-0. Maybe just friend.

\- "Fine, if you insist. But it's really no big deal," Steve says, as he pulls his pants down for her to have a look.

\- "Let me be the judge of that, OK? Maybe you just need a stitch or two, but the wound may become infected, so we don't want that, right?" Catherine says, as she removes the higgledy-piggledy dressing Steve had applied to the wound, that is, indeed, bleeding again.

\- "Pfft, please! You're exaggerating!" he says, but lets her tend to it. He knows there's nothing to be gained by putting on a show of toughness. "Remember the last time I did this for you? Billy had just died…," he says, melancholy invading him at yet another loss.

\- "I remember," Catherine says, looking down, halting her movements at the memory. "I've still got the scar to prove it," she continues, smiling sweetly at him, deciding to move away from the pain. "Billy was a good man, much like Joe. We avenged Billy's death, we'll do the same here," she says, determined. "Any other wounds?"

\- "Huh?", Steve asks, brought back to reality.

\- "Cuts, gashes, bruises, bullet holes, blunt force trauma…?" Catherine continues, patiently. She knows he hates to feel vulnerable, but she simply can't have him bleed to near death on her.

\- "Yeah, one on my left arm and chest area and this one on my wrist. But they're healing fine," Steve enumerates, pulling his pants up.

\- "Plus, the bump on the head?" she says, suspiciously.

\- "Plus the bump on the head", he says, touching his forehead and wincing. "But I'm fine, no concussion."

A second later he's gone, with a shy "thanks" thrown her way. With a sad smile, she turns to her laptop again.


	6. Chapter 6

**1623 hours**

Sometime later, body aching from the hours sat at the same position, straining her eyes, Catherine decides to take a break and goes in search of Steve, who's been unusually quiet for the better part of an hour. He's moved on from repairing the bullet-riddled wood that separates the living room from the study, to painting the wall on both sides. Catherine can't help but be impressed at what determination and grief can accomplish and hope that Steve manages to quickly work through it and reach normalcy again. But she also knows that he won't truly start the healing process until he's managed to put Omar Hassan in the ground. And with that, she can help.

Steve finishes his painting in the living room and, moving to the table, busies himself with the open cans and dirty paint brushes, while Catherine sits down at the other end, in silence, yearning for a neck massage, but not daring to ask for it.

\- "Can I ask you something? To do with your work?" His voice is strong, determined, but he doesn't look her in the eye.

Catherine is surprised, as he never asks her anything about the CIA. In fact, she suspects he nurtures a deep hatred for her employer because of Doris - forgetting to account for her own choices - so she is very careful never to refer to her work, or that part of her life.

\- "Sure, anything, as long as I can talk about it", she assures him, smiling.

\- "How did you get to me so quickly? I mean, how did you know where I was and what had happened? My phone was turned off."

Catherine winces, not exactly sure if she should answer his question truthfully. After all, what they do is not exactly legal. But she lets the thought slide and looks him in the eye as she answers.

\- "As soon as I got back to my flat, day before yesterday"…

\- "Where were you? he interrupts, feeling the need to imagine how she lives her life, nowadays.

\- "It's classified, sorry", she says, looking sufficiently pained. "Suffice it to say, very far away and very cold."

\- "Go on", Steve answers, childishly annoyed at the secrecy.

\- "As soon as I got back, I got a call from a colleague who knows I know Doris and Joe." Catherine stops and looks at Steve, giving him a few seconds to process hearing his mother's name. But he remains perfectly still, eyes focused on anything, but her. "He broke the news to me. I couldn't believe it. So I immediately called my handler and told him I wouldn't be able to focus on any more ops until I could see you. We have ways of tracing disconnected cell phones. You left the battery inside, so we remotely turned it on, just long enough to trace your location. As soon as I knew where you were, I got on a plane within the hour. I landed at the nearby military airbase, and there was a car waiting for me there. I called as soon as I was close. You know the rest."

Steve huffs ironically and shakes his head, annoyed at how the CIA works. And consequently, her. He can't forget how they tried to kill him, at least once before and abandoned Danny in a Colombian prison, effectively to be killed. If it hadn't been for Doris… who also happens to still work for them… Without looking at her, still, he says:

\- "I'm going to take a shower. See you in a bit."

Feeling sufficiently put in her place by his reaction, Catherine turns to the kitchen to start preparing something for them to eat. Steve's lack of appetite at lunch hasn't escaped her notice and she decides to cook something that he may like, perhaps Italian.

By the time he comes back into the room, the smell that wafts from the stove is heaven, the coffee maker percolates happily away, the table is set and Catherine is nowhere to be seen. Annoyed at having let his emotions carry him, Steve sighs and decides to go look for her and apologize. He feels… conflicted, tangled in a mesh of positive and negative feelings, grappling for balance and control. He knows how lucky he is for having such a good friend by his side and he wants her to know that.

\- "Hey, Cath…" he says, entering the back room. "I'm sorry for still not dealing very well with your employer".

\- "Speaking of which," she says, not taking her eyes from the laptop, "we got some more interesting intel."

\- "Well, I guess the CIA sometimes comes in handy," he says, smiling at her, chastised.

They share a complicit smile and a look of understanding; she's telling him it's OK that he's acting the way he is and he is genuinely sorry for not being able to get a better grip on his emotions. Steve comes closer and finally faces Catherine's laptop and all it represents. After all, without it, it would take them much longer to get the information they now possess.

\- "See, here? On the surface, everything appears to be above board. But he does lead a double life. He's been Hassan's lawyer for 4 years, and despite making a very good living as a lawyer, his net worth has multiplied 10 times in the last four years."

\- "No doubt, courtesy of our mutual friend," Steve says, looking attentively at the screen. "What else?"

\- "Apparently, Hassan isn't his only "special" client. So much so, that the Swedish authorities have had him under surveillance for the past two years. Unfortunately, he's very good at covering his tracks. So they've been unable to make any accusations stick."

\- "Meaning he knows exactly what to do, and how to do it."

\- "And not get caught. We need to be extremely careful. He has a network behind him and they won't hesitate to retaliate."

\- "They can't retaliate if they don't know who struck at them. And we'll be so stealth, they won't see it coming."

\- "Absolutely," she says, confidently smiling at him. "Now come on, let's go grab some dinner."

\- "I'm not really hungry, Cath. I'm going to continue reading these reports."

\- "Dinner, first, reports later. Come on, I made something I think you'll like," she says, extending her hand to him. "You need to eat if you want to keep your strength up."

\- "Yes, mother."

\- "Oh, please, let's not go into that minefield, OK?" Catherine says, chuckling.

He laughs too and follows behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**2149 hours**

After dinner, they both return to the reports that Steve is so adamant about going over; he wants to make sure they find out as much as possible about the lawyer, so their strike can be surgical, quick and painless. And also avoid local law enforcement to the extreme, if possible, when they pick him up. It's become obvious that they can't work him while in Stockholm. They must bring him here, to their neck of the woods. About an hour and a half later, Catherine starts to yawn, still suffering the effects of jetlag, and they decide to call it a night.

"Let's go to sleep. Come on," he says, getting up from the chair and stretching his arms above his head. As he starts to exit the room, she calls out to him.

"Are you really going to sleep on that pathetic excuse of a mattress? It is thin and uncomfortable, you won't get any sleep. You need to rest…"

"Oh, I uh… found a mattress propped up against the wall of the wardrobe, in the other room," he says, smiling apologetically. "I think this is the best sleeping arrangement for both of us, I'm not sleeping so well, these days."

"Oh, OK," Catherine answers smiling, thinking he is right. "I'm just worried about you."

"You don't have to, really," he says, as he comes close to her and looks her deep in the eyes, conveying that he's being genuine. He hugs her loosely and says, tired, "I don't know what I'd do without you. Thanks for being my friend, for being here, for putting up with me."

She smiles a disarming smile at him as she replies, "you're welcome" and they each go their separate ways to try to get some sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Bitterroot Ranch, Montana**

**14.12.2018**

**0725 hours**

Catherine's been awake for half an hour, unwilling to get up and face the day, stomach twisted in a knot. Joe's service and cremation is today, and Steve's been getting angrier and more withdrawn as the date approached, even going so far as not yet having called Danny. She knows there isn't much she can do to comfort him, and also how hard it will be to get through the day, for both of them, albeit for slightly different reasons. Steve's suffered so many losses in recent years and Catherine wonders at how many more he'll be able to endure, without it taking a toll on his usually positive outlook on life.

Sighing, she gets up and heads to the kitchen to get a drink of water, leaning against the sink in quiet contemplation for a few minutes more. She heads for the room he chose to sleep in, door ajar, and pushes it open, to reveal a sleeping Steve. Softly calling out to him from the entrance, Catherine waits until he starts stirring, not wanting to scare him as she's not really sure where he keeps his SIG Sauer, these days. While she's standing there, she can't help but think back to other, happier times, when she didn't have to knock on his bedroom door, or call out for him to wake up. The last few days have awoken memories in her that, despite masked by their busy days, have been assaulting her at the most inappropriate times. They have been living together for six days, now, no one else around, and the domesticity they've been sharing has, at times, disturbed her, made her think back to when they were living on O'ahu together, and she was happy. Because Catherine knows that, for a while, she was very happy, living with him. Sickeningly so. And lately, she hasn't managed to throw a bucket of cold water on those recurring thoughts by also remembering why she ultimately decided to leave – is she reassessing her life choices and if so, why now? Ultimately, what's the point?

Banishing those thoughts from her mind, she walks further into the room and slowly kneels on the edge of the mattress, as Steve starts to stir and she's reasonably pleased that he knows it's her. His sleeping position gives away the turmoil he must've been in: arms above his head, one to each side, one leg over the covers, the other foot touching the floor, contorted face turned to one side. Steve finally opens his eyes enough to realise it's her, while Catherine breaks out into a shiver, wrapping her arms around her body and smiling sweetly at him. The nights in Montana are brutally cold, and she's not really a fan of thick, heavy pajamas. Steve retracts his legs from their present position and, lowering his arms, raises the covers, inviting her to join him in the warmth they provide. Catherine hesitates for a second, given his accurate read out of the appropriateness of their sleeping arrangements, a few nights before, masked, to a degree, by the excuse of insomnia. However, the uniqueness of the day makes her throw caution to the wind and give in to his suggestion. She smiles at him, looking him in the eye, sighs and lays down on the mattress, next to his body, allowing Steve to cover her. They lie side by side, not touching, for a few minutes, until Catherine starts to feel awkward about the whole situation. Not wanting him to know as much, she reaches down and holds his hand, in a gesture of support, immediately downgrading any potentially romantic situation to a less emotionally charged one. Thankfully, Steve seems to be in another world and doesn't sense the turmoil going on inside her. Facing him, Catherine props her elbow on the mattress, eyeing him kindly.

\- "Are you about ready to face the day? It's going to be a long one."

\- "Not really, but what choice do we have?"

Somehow, being included in his struggle warms Catherine's heart and lessens her own sadness. Steve sighs, closing his eyes, and covers his face with his arm.

\- "God… I wish it was already tomorrow. I am not looking forward to today at all. I keep thinking about my mother, and how much she'd like to be here. Despite everything, they were really good friends. He protected her always, oftentimes against my express wishes."

\- "Look, you know the drill. Today's going to be really hard. I wish I could… take away all the pain and suffering you're going through, but I can't. Grieving is our way of knowing that we cared for the ones we lost and it's a process we must all go through. But I'm here for you, whatever you need."

-"Thanks, Cath. Your being here really means a lot to me. You have no idea," he says, looking her straight in the eye.

\- "Nowhere I'd rather be," she counters, thinking back to a talk with Danny, a few years back, that still haunts her to this day, glad he's not listening to her, but comforted by the fact that this time, at least, she can be one hundred percent truthful.

Two hours later, they arrive at the Montana State Veterans Cemetery. The service is brief and painful, it rains from start to finish, everyone wears black and life seems drained of colour. Steve feels cold to his bones as he contemplates life and death and the meaning of it all - again. Catherine stays by his side the entire time. At the end of the service, as per Joe's request, Steve is given his casket flag, properly folded. People flock to Steve's side, some known to him, like Joe's army buddies, others unknown, probably friends from around the area, like the army neighbour. After about one hour of hanging around, trying his best to appear composed, not knowing what to do with his hands, he's had enough. Catherine, who's been discreetly eyeing him, moves to his side and holds his hand, gently signaling that they should move the celebration to the local Irish pub, as Joe would've liked. He accepts the momentary reprise to breathe again, despite the crushing pain and never lets go of her hand until they get there. Another three hours ensue, filled with remembrance of Joe's life and achievements, singing and drinking, and speeches from friends.

Nearer the end of the business day, they head to the crematorium to pick up Joe's ashes. Steve has decided to scatter them near the old Ponderosa pine that Joe had wanted to die next to, but he wants to have a small memorial made to him, on that spot. He hasn't uttered a single word since they left the cemetery; and even there, he had merely thanked the people who had showed up and listened to unknown stories about Joe, smiling sadly. They had managed to afford him some comfort, knowing Joe was so loved and had so many friends in his life, but after a while, even that had become too much. Catherine had let him be; she knew he would talk when he was ready and ask for help when he needed it.

As they reach the house, Steve sits down on the couch, and just remains there, despondent, for some time. He refuses dinner, and Catherine doesn't insist, knowing he needs time to process and reflect in solitude. She turns on the lamp nearer the sofa he's sitting on and retreats to the room she's sleeping in, to continue searching for Greggers Thomsen. She figures it's the best use of her time, right now. However, the day's events have affected her more than she had expected. While Catherine had viewed her job, during the day as a giver of support, she seems to have forgotten that she also loved Joe, and is, therefore, also grieving for him. After about an hour of not being able to concentrate for more than 10 minutes, Catherine gives up and heads to the living room to check on Steve. She finds him in the exact same position, absentmindedly staring into the wall. Sitting down next to him, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it as she leans into him, tears falling down her face. She doesn't dare utter a word, for fear of his brittle walls of control collapsing. The stay like that for another half an hour, none of them knowing what to say to lessen the other's pain.

Suddenly, Steve breaks the silence that has settled between them.

\- "Did you know Joe was living with a paediatrician in Nairobi? I found a photo in his bag, when I went to retrieve some cotter pins. He looked so happy in it… He had someone to live for, to share his life with, someone who was waiting for him, someone to go back to. Why couldn't he have fought harder? God, I wish it had been me taking that bullet."

\- "Please, don't say that. You have an entire Ohana that loves you. Many people, who are waiting for you to go back to them," Catherine says, eyes far away, an image of Lynn coming to her mind's eye, thinking back to when she was the one waiting for him to come home. "Speaking of which, have you spoken to Danny, yet?" she says, trying to dismiss the mental image.

\- "No, not yet. I'll call him soon," he answers.

\- "Call Danny. It'll help. Really."

\- "I hear you, Cath. And I will. Thanks," Steve says, genuinely comforted by her concern for him and his relationship with his brother. What he doesn't want to share with her is part of the reason he hasn't called Danny yet. He's thought about calling a few times, but decided against it. Once Danny knows Catherine is there with him, alone, his rant will be epic and Steve's not really in the mood, these days, to hear anyone criticize her, especially since she left everything at the drop of a hat and came immediately, no questions asked, for how long it takes. And because of that, he slightly resents Danny, at the moment, childishly refusing to acknowledge his ever present concern for him.

As they both get up, Steve turns to her and hugs her fiercely, broken, body nestled against hers, seeking friendly comfort, staring into the distance. His warmth comforts her; his scent invades her nostrils and shoots straight to her brain, ingraining itself in her neurons. Annoyed at herself for letting her mind wander there, at this moment of grief, she shakes her head, trying to make the thoughts disappear and hugs him tighter, hoping that he doesn't sense the internal struggle she's going through.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the delay in publishing – I still haven't overcome the shock of the end of the show as well as the realization that the likelihood of a McRoll endgame is very small. I find it… such a shame, and a missed opportunity. Instead of capitalizing on Steve's apparent (and recent) _mea culpa_ regarding his penchant for putting his professional life ahead of his personal one, the EP has him going on another pointless date, apparently only to end the show with Steve dead, or alone. He is going to miss a golden opportunity to "regenerate" Steve in the viewers' eyes, and it's a shame, a missed opportunity and a sexist prejudice; the fact of the matter is that Steve has issues, he's emotionally stunted, perhaps because of what happened with his mother. Cath leaving was as much his fault as well as hers, but it was always portrayed (and discussed) as though she had committed the ultimate sin. We don't know if there was any other reason for her departure (if there was, I just hope that it wasn't a determining factor or solely for that reason!), but his treatment of her was reason enough. He never made time for her, he never committed, he never told her, like the Alpha male that he is, that he wanted her to stay, that he loved her; almost proposing doesn't count, let's look at things from her perspective. And truth is, she was so shocked to learn of his plans that she was still thinking about them, 2 years after learning of that fact. Steve could've "graduated" into real manhood in the sentimental department, by opening up his heart to Cath and telling her everything he felt and everything he wanted out of her. And he needed to accept his share of guilt for her departure. It was not a case of "Catherine has to come back to Steve"... it was more "Steve needs to chase after her and let her know she's the one, there is no one else. And beg her to give him another chance, because he'll take her any way he can get her. In any capacity. CIA or no CIA. Living on the island or not. She's it, there's no one else." There were many storylines badly handled on the show, and I find it hard to believe that such experienced people in making TV would fall down those holes, but there it is. There always seemed to be more to this story, both in the chemistry between the two, as well as in PL's comments every time he was grilled about McRoll. Now I realise he was just very cunning about stringing everyone along, for maximum viewer numbers and that he probably never had any intention of revisiting that storyline. What a shame. How sad. Anyway, here are two more (short) chapters. I'm still reeling from the news!

* * *

After Joe's funeral, Steve and Catherine enter into a somewhat comfortable domesticity, borne perhaps of the memories of times past, but nonetheless slightly artificial. Not that either of them recognizes it for what it is; to them, the time is for preparing for an extraction op, fraught with dangers and unknown variables. Catherine can be found either glued to her laptop, finding information and analyzing it, or relaxing and unwinding in the kitchen, cooking. Steve has been occupying his days with planning the op and getting in touch with friends and valuable contacts who may be able to help. They need a crew, logistical support and all the gadgets they can get their hands on. One afternoon, he finally calls Danny. His friend is understandably concerned, but manages to remain calm and collected throughout the call. Steve is impressed. They say their goodbyes, with the promise of another call, soon. Danny starts preparing for a trip to Montana soon after, to bring his brother home, if he doesn't return before Christmas.

During that period, there aren't many words spoken between the two. Steve is still dealing with his pain, and Catherine can tell he's not really in a talking or sharing mood, so she just lets him be. Giving him space is the best thing she can do, for now. Steve is numb to most things around him, still harbouring that feeling of detachment from life that has been a constant since Joe died in his arms. He's lost any desire to take part in once-loved activities, focusing instead on the task at hand, doggedly. Every major death in his life, up to this point, seems to have served the purpose of helping to prepare him for the next inclement and heart-wrenching demise, and he's tired of that.

One night, Steve jolts awake in a sweat, immediately assaulted by the lingering feeling of danger he's been battling all week. He instinctively grabs his gun, hidden under the pillow, while the memories of Joe's shooting hit him like a wrecking ball. Reaching for his cell, realising it's still dark outside, he turns it on to see the time: 0433 hours. Again with the insomnia, Steve sighs. He knows where it's coming from, of course, but hates being at the mercy of his feelings. Hopefully, once this is over, things will start to get back to normal. But they have a lot of work to do, still and he can't help but obsess about every tiny detail. They can leave nothing to chance, as this will not be a sanctioned op. And the danger… the possible consequences are all too clear and present in his mind, given what just happened with Joe. Steve silently promises him that he will do everything in his power to avenge his death, even if it kills him too. He will go to the ends of the earth to find Hassan and return the 'favour' he so kindly gifted his second father with. Then, his mind turns to the woman sleeping in the next room. He shudders inwardly, thinking about Catherine. He knows that she has one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet and has been doing it for almost two and a half years, but he can't help himself. He feels an overwhelming urge to protect her, to guard her against any harm that may befall her, as the thought of also losing her from his life is unbearable. Steve is keenly aware that he would not cope if she, too, disappeared forever. But asking her to stay behind is not an option. She came willingly, and she'll insist on staying until the end; actually, he's pretty sure she'd bite his head off if he even so much as suggested she take a step back. Besides, he can't afford not to have her, she's an important asset. He'll just have to be very stealth about protecting her as best he can.

While distracted by his thoughts, Steve suddenly hears a strangled cry coming from Catherine's room. In a second, he's at her door, running possible scenarios in his mind, in a frenzy. Her face is contorted, in pain, illuminated by the faint moonlight, and he kneels down on the mattress, soothingly calling out to her, in a low voice. The last thing he wants is for her to attack him, coming out of a terrifying nightmare, so he leans forward, places both hands on her shoulders, and gently nudges her in a shaking motion, back and forth, calling her name. A few seconds later, she seems to come out of her state and looks at him, eyes fuzzy and still not oriented. Steve pulls her towards him and hugs her tight, trying to comfort her, whilst at the same time physically calming her down with his own body. They stay like that for a few minutes, not moving, until Catherine's shakes subside and she finally relaxes, placing her arms around his body. Steve discreetly turns his tight, calming hug into something milder, supportive but unobtrusive and she seems to understand she's finally safe.

The episode affects them in different ways; while Catherine is simply relieved to have been broken out of her most recent nightmare, the familiarity of holding her in his arms bathes Steve in a warm, comforting sensation, unlike anything he has felt in recent years. It awakes something in him, long forgotten, and he can't help but be disturbed by the feelings brought on by the hug. He manages to disguise the turmoil he's in by closing his eyes and breathing deeply, to try to get to grips with all the memories assaulting his conscious mind, Joe's death momentarily forgotten. Disentangling himself from her embrace, Steve lets her lie down again and covers her with the comforter, sitting down by her side.

\- "How are you feeling?" he asks, concerned. He's never known her to have nightmares, so this is a new development.

-"Better. Thanks for waking me up, that was a rough one," she replies, pained smile on her lips.

\- "How long have you been having these nightmares, Catherine?" he feels the need to ask.

\- "I have them, on occasion," she answers, not looking at him, serious, almost talking to herself. "Takes a lot out of me."

\- "I can imagine… but why?"

\- "Oh, you know, nature of the job," she says, looking at him sadly. "Sometimes stuff happens, and it messes with our heads. And since we have something called a conscience… the bad stuff lingers, and eventually starts to seep through the cracks. It's an inevitability."

\- "But you do go to counselling, right?"

\- "Never been much of a fan," she says, eyes far away.

\- "I remember," he says, thinking back to when Billy had died and how difficult it had been for Catherine to deal with the feelings of guilt she'd held on to. "But you have to seek help, when you start to have nightmares that wake you up, that means that you're definitely not coping so well."

\- "It gets worse when something happens, that triggers those memories," she says, voice barely above a whisper. Then, looking him straight in the eye, she feels the need to clarify, "Joe."

\- "I got it," Steve says, reaching for her hand, squeezing it in a show of sympathy. "Look, I'm not a professional, but… you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. _Quid pro quo_, and all," he says, smiling at her.

\- "You know how it is. You see so much death, in all its forms… enough to make you lose your faith in humanity. How it is possible that some people walk the earth on two legs and share oxygen with you? Most of the places I am sent to, on ops, are war zones. You see stuff… that'll never, ever be wiped from your mind. You develop this strong protection instinct over the weak and the vulnerable. But unfortunately, you can't protect everyone and sometimes, someone is left behind. On nights like these, I mourn those losses. I will never forget some faces. And it seems that the more time passes, the more faces I accumulate, they are like ghosts that follow me around. I failed them, so they don't fade from my mind, they keep me real and on my toes. You know what I'm talking about?"

\- "Yeah, Catherine, I know. And you failed no one, you did the best you could. But when that starts to affect your life like this, maybe it's time to call it quits, don't you think? However much you want it to, your contribution will never end any war. And it gets to a point where you may do more harm, than good."

\- "What do you mean?"

\- "If you're not at the top of your game, both physically and psychologically… you won't be good for the people you're trying to help, or to yourself. Because if you die in the field, what purpose does that serve? You go on mission after mission, putting your life in danger, just to… what? Atone for your personal losses? Make up for the ones who died on your watch?"

\- "It's as valid a reason as any," Catherine says, smiling sadly. "I help a lot of people, I know I make a real difference."

\- "But at what cost, Catherine?"

\- "Death, again, you mean? Sometimes it doesn't seem that bad of a tradeoff…" she adds, understanding him, but unwilling to admit it. Lately, she's been downplaying many things.

\- "Really? At the expense of your life?" Steve asks, pointedly, never more serious.

\- "Someone has to do it. I'm good at it," Catherine replies, smiling, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation.

\- "Oh, I know you are. But when the job starts to take such a toll on you, it's time to stop. Please, Catherine, listen to me."

\- "No, I'm not ready for that, yet," Catherine says, stubbornly.

\- "What else do you have to prove, Catherine?" Steve prods, carefully. He knows he's threading on very thin ice, after all, her decision to leave, in the first place, was at the genesis of their breakup, and he never really understood her reasons, nor did she ever explain them. He simply showed her the door and she accepted his 'suggestion' over talking about what was really going on. Steve sighs, chastising himself, wondering, for a moment, what would've happened had he not been such an idiot, on that fateful day.

\- "It's not about proving anything… I genuinely like the job."

\- "But there are other jobs you could do, right? That you'd be equally good at. That might give you a good night's sleep and maybe other things you may be missing?"

\- "Such as?"

\- "Family around you, friends, weekly plans…," Steve goes on, laughing.

\- "I have them, just not in the regular way," Catherine smiles at him, yawning. "Look at you, always on the go. Whenever that phone rings, you're 100% committed to the mission. As for me… I may be gone for days, sometimes weeks. Then, I come home and have downtime, I can enjoy all the comforts, such as my bed, friends, family, all the normal stuff," Catherine finishes, voice even, not a hint of accusation. Before the conversation veers off to other areas that she's not ready to go into, Catherine adds:

\- "I'm going to try and get a few more hours of sleep. I'm really tired."

Steve knows she's deflecting, but lets it go. Getting up, he smiles at her and moves to the door, hoping she can get the rest she needs.


	10. Chapter 10

Two days later, waking up at the crack of dawn - again - Steve has gained enough distance from his conversation with Catherine to now be able to reflect on it, and the feelings that their hug awoke in him. He hadn't expected to be so suddenly reminded of his once deep feelings for her in that way, and he's been avoiding thinking about what it all means, until now. He loved her, once, very much; he thought that they had both moved on from that love, long ago, and that was why he had tried to love another. But that attempt had ultimately come to nothing, as Steve had always felt that there was something missing in his heart. Could it be…? No, it can't be. Has he been sabotaging himself, all this time? Has Catherine been the answer, all this time? If so, how can he not have seen it? Does he still love her? 'Of course you do', Steve thinks, with annoyance, in his mental dialogue. No, I mean, really love her, still? Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards, love? Can he forgive her for leaving, without so much as an explanation? Come to think of it, IS there an explanation? And what about her job? It's as though a light has gone on in his brain, and suddenly he feels dizzy, with all the questions swimming around in the pool of doubt that has formed in the last two days. One thing he's thankful for, though: true to form, he's happy that Catherine doesn't seem to have sensed the turmoil going on inside him, at least until he can make some sense of it. This changes everything. Where does he go, from here, what does he do, how can he act normal, when near her? What if she rejects him, once again, if he decides to try? He knows he won't survive that!

Suddenly, Steve feels an overwhelming urge to see her, as though the doubts running through his mind will become clearer if he can look at her face. He gets up and heads for her room, surprised that the door is open, thereby facilitating his decision. In the back of his mind, there is a very slight feeling of invasion; of her privacy, of her sleep, of her intimacy. He thinks back to the last time he saw her sleep, two weeks after Konno's wedding, on the morning he was making arrangements for her engagement ring. On the day she had left. Memories of them together invade him, bathing him in happiness and sorrow. He vigilantly watches her peaceful face, her even breathing, raising her chest rhythmically, and smiles at the way she's wrapped up in the comforter. Steve leans against the door jamb and stands there, trying to be as quiet as possible, contemplating her, a million thoughts going through his head, none about Joe or the mission, this time. Ten minutes later, sighing deeply, he heads for the kitchen to cook some breakfast. He needs a distraction, to stop thinking about Catherine, mull over his feelings or process the thoughts in his head.

Half an hour later, while busy with the food, he hears her footsteps coming from her room, walking slowly towards him, without much purpose or rush; he turns back, smiling meekly at her and she comes close, standing behind him and a bit to the side, still half asleep, to take a peek at what he's doing.

\- "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

\- "Got it in one, Lieutenant. Then again, no one can ever accuse you of not being perceptive," Steve says, with a smile on his face, not looking back.

\- "Hey!" Catherine feigns indignation, pinching his flank with little enthusiasm, causing him to move away from her hand.

Steve turns his head sideways and looks at her, weary of even looking her in the eye, at this point. Hair disheveled, pajama top loose leaving one shoulder bare, bottoms halfway down her hips, open robe, belt almost falling off one end, thick socks on her feet, and she's never looked more beautiful. Suddenly, he has a sort of out-of-body experience; in a split second, he sees himself reaching for her robe, pulling her towards him, and pressing himself against her. The suddenness and vividness of his thoughts, coupled with her close proximity, stir something in him, and Steve quickly moves to the fridge, pretending to need something inside. Welcoming the cold distraction, he takes a second to compose himself, fully aware that she's there, next to him, and he can't just stand in front of the fridge forever.

Misunderstanding his reaction for indecisiveness on what to cook, Catherine moves closer to him, and peeks into the fridge as well, amused. Steve breathes deeply, putting on a mask of easiness he definitely does not feel, and removes a punnet of strawberries from the chill, not even sure what to do with it. Closing the fridge door, he heads for the sink, never looking back, uncomfortable with her physical closeness. Images of them together on O'ahu come to his mind in rapid succession; they are so vivid and welcoming, that Steve has to make an effort to remind himself why they ultimately broke up. There is a feeling of regret running through him, as though he should've fought harder for this woman, cherished their time together more, and realised how much of a good thing he had going. Suddenly, her sleepy voice breaks the silence:

\- "Want a chocolate cake in a mug?"

Steve is taken completely by surprise, baffled by her words.

\- "Huh? A what?"

\- "Chocolate cake in a mug," Catherine says, amused, getting up and grabbing a spoon. "A dose for one of chocolate cake, made in one minute, and you have the perfect thing to go with it. I have the best recipe, moist and comforting. Believe me, there are times when only chocolate cake will do," she concludes, rolling her eyes in mock delight.

\- "Is that so?" he jokes, smiling, suddenly assaulted by thoughts of other things he used to enjoy doing with her, that comforted him immensely.

\- "Uh-huh. Tell you what, I'll make you one. You give it a try. How's that?"

\- "Thanks," he says, smiling, thankful for the simplicity and easy familiarity of the moment. "I'll make the coffee."

Ten minutes later, they're both in silence, leisurely sat at the table, delighting in moist chocolate cake with chocolate chunks, strawberries, and strong, black coffee. Catherine decides to broach a subject that's been on her mind for a while, now.

\- "Can we talk about something?"

His heart skips a beat at her words for a millisecond, until he reminds himself that she has no way of knowing what's been on his mind. He turns to her, with an easy smile on his face.

\- "Sure, what's up?"

\- "It's about Christmas. I know that's probably the last subject you want to contemplate, right now, but we won't get much done until the New Year, data gathering is gaining momentum with the Agency, and we have time, to get ourselves organized. I haven't been home for Thanksgiving or Christmas in two years, so… I'd like to go this year."

Steve feels overwhelmingly disappointed at her words, but it's only natural that Catherine wants to be with her family, especially given her line of work and the uncertainties that go with it. He'll be alone in Montana and not looking forward to it, but he would never dream of asking her to stay.

\- "Of course! You should go, Christmas is meant to be spent with family," he says, thinking of his Ohana back on O'ahu.

\- "No, Steve, don't be silly. I spoke to my mother yesterday, she's expecting us. I've already booked our flights, so you don't have a lot of options, here."

\- "You mean me, going with you? Oh, no, I couldn't. I wouldn't dream of imposing…," Steve counters, horrified at the thought of spending three or four days in close proximity to the woman leaving him unbalanced, plus her close family, at her home.

\- "What are you talking about, Steve? Look, it's settled. I want to go home for Christmas and see my parents and brothers, and I would never, ever leave you alone, here. So there's only one thing to do, really. You're coming. Deal with it," Catherine says, adamant.

\- "Catherine, I can't. There's still a lot of work to do, I can't just leave..."

\- "It's Christmas. Even Greggers Thomsen will take some time off from his evil deeds to be with his family, I'm sure," Catherine says, smiling at him. "We have plenty of time to sort through everything else in time for our op. Trust me."

\- "I don't know, Cath…" he says, unsure of himself. "It's the time for family, not for ex-boyfriends," Steve concludes, smiling jokingly.

\- "You're my best friend, Steve," Catherine says, looking him in the eye, very serious. "That good enough for you?"

\- "What can I say?"

\- "Say you'll come home with me," Catherine replies, as though it's the easiest thing in the world.

He capitulates, happy for the change of scenery and thankful for the distraction, but unsure how they will navigate Christmas AND her parents, with his recent epiphany. And telling Danny not to expect him home for the holidays.


	11. Chapter 11

23rd December comes too soon for Steve and not soon enough for Catherine. Steve's still not sure about spending Christmas with Catherine's family, but he agreed to it and has no heart to tell her he doesn't really want to go, now. Catherine decides not to go into the subject again, for fear of him using it as an opening to plead with her, regarding their plans. They've known each other for many years, but haven't seen or spoken to one another in many months, with the added complication of their past dating history, so Catherine doesn't really know how comfortable Steve is with the idea of Christmas at _casa_ Rollins. But she knows that he will feel much worse if he stays behind in Montana, alone. He's blinded by grief and all he wants is to isolate himself from the world; Catherine figures he'll benefit from some company and a distraction to the latest developments in his life.

By mid-morning, they're ready to leave the ranch and head to the airport. Catherine continues to sense some hesitation on Steve's part, as she catches him looking at her beseechingly, but decides not to acknowledge it. He has nothing to gain from staying at the ranch, by himself. By the time they leave the airport, Jimmy, one of Catherine's brothers, has called ahead and let her know he will be picking them up; Steve is struck by how happy Catherine and her brother seem to be, when he spots them coming out of baggage claim. He knows Catherine's brothers from the few times they met at her parent's house; they're a tight nit family and he has always enjoyed their company. Unfortunately, they never got the chance to really get to know one another, since Catherine and Steve were always coming or going, in between deployments, when her brothers were also able to come home. As they greet each other, Steve wonders if Catherine hasn't warned them ahead of time, regarding what happened, but he is too nervous to linger on that thought. Catherine's parents are expecting them, and he's really starting to regret not having told her a vehement 'NO'. Too late to back off, now.

The car ride takes about 30 minutes, fully occupied by Jimmy grilling his sister on what she's been up to in the last 4 months of not having seen her. They laugh and exchange innocent jabs, under Steve's quiet and amused eye. He notices that Catherine avoids her brother's more detailed questions, and he doesn't seem to mind, making Steve wonder how much he exactly knows about her work life, these days. As they get to the house, Steve has a feeling of _déjà vu_: he's in the car with Catherine - and the fact that he isn't the one driving hasn't escaped his notice- and they're both coming home to see her parents. He has mixed feelings about this; he really likes her parents, but these are strange circumstances, as he wonders what, exactly, they know about their breakup. It's almost as though he feels the need to justify his presence to them, now that he is no longer dating their daughter, but not only that – since he was the one to throw an ultimatum at her face. He so wishes he could be back in Montana, right now.

Catherine's parents welcome their children and Steve home. Her father, Admiral Michael Rollins, is a well-respected Navy officer and her mother, Elizabeth, is a successful psychotherapist. They are both elated at finally having their daughter home, and welcome Steve with great warmth, seeming genuinely happy to see him after so long. Catherine definitely called ahead and explained.

\- "Steve, how nice to see you again, welcome."

\- "Mrs. Rollins, it's very nice to see you again. Thank you having me, especially at Christmas."

\- "Oh, nonsense, we're very happy to have you, it's been too long! And I told you before, call me Elizabeth," she replies, with a wonderful smile gracing her features. Then suddenly, growing serious, she adds: "I was so sorry to hear of the death of Commander White, he was a very good man."

\- "Thank you. That he was." He then turns to Catherine's father, saluting him. "Admiral."

\- "Steve, very nice to see you. No need for salutes, we're both off duty. Welcome," Catherine's father replies, seemingly happy to see him. He's becoming more and more curious about what Catherine told her family regarding their breakup. He expected a few surreptitious looks of distrust, at least.

They all go inside and, as Jimmy takes Steve to the guest room, mentioning that he, too, is sorry about Commander White, Elizabeth Rollins accompanies her daughter to her old room, speaking non-stop.

\- "Honey, I'm so happy you came. Nothing makes me happier than having you here. Now, if only I could see happiness in those eyes..."

Catherine stops unpacking and sighs, annoyed that her mother hasn't waited 10 minutes before deciding to go for the jugular. But she'll give her a run for her money.

\- "Mom... what are you talking about? Where is this coming from?"

\- "Catherine, you've been my daughter for 38 years, honey...," she starts, smiling angelically. "I can read you like an open book. I know when you're happy or sad. And lately, whenever you come home, you look sad. Your eyes lost their sparkle. But today you seem… I don't know, perkier. Livelier eyes. Does this have anything to do with Steve?"

\- "Steve? How so?" Catherine deflects masterfully, turning to her mother with a sharp questioning glance, defiant.

\- "Are you two back together?" Elizabeth Rollins asks, always direct, ignoring her daughter's challenge.

\- "What? Back together? No! Whatever brought this on, mom? I told you, we're in the middle of planning a mission, Commander Joe White died and I couldn't leave him alone in Montana during the Holidays. He's my friend. That's all," and while she's saying it, she wonders if her denial wasn't a tad too vehement. Lately, she doesn't really know how to react around or about Steve, anymore.

\- "I know that, honey, and I'm really glad you brought him. I always liked Steve. Always hoped...," Elizabeth says, looking away.

Catherine reaches for her mother's hand and squeezes it, trying to comfort her. "Mom, Steve lives in Hawai'i, he has his own life. And a girlfriend. I live in Washington, and have my own life. We're just friends."

\- "Are you sure, honey?"

\- "What brought this on, mom? Yes, I am," Catherine reiterates, suddenly remembering Montana, and feeling a discharge of adrenaline, cheeks getting warm. "Can we please change the subject? I want to enjoy the Holiday, stuff myself with chocolates and open presents. Speaking of which, I think we need to go shopping."

\- "OK, honey, I'll let it go, for now," Elizabeth Rollins counters. "Let's go."


	12. Chapter 12

After dinner, the family gathers around the TV to watch 'Miracle on 34th Street'. Steve still remembers it as one of Catherine's favourites, as well as a memorable afternoon they spent cooped up in a hotel room, one Christmas on deployment, when they had managed a few hours together, with the exact same movie as background. The memories make him smile, followed by a feeling of nostalgia that invades him. He can tell Catherine is really happy at being home, and considering he has only seen her twice, for one or two-day missions in the last 2 years, this is a refreshing change. Her relationship with her parents is also something he always admired, as they banter and joke innocently with each other. Catherine's brother, Peter, is coming home the next day and Steve looks forward to seeing him, as they are both SEALs and always got along well.

Before the movie is over, both her parents retire, wishing everyone a good night. Jimmy has fallen asleep on the sofa, and Catherine is watching the movie attentively, with Steve discreetly stealing occasional glances her way. Suddenly, he is brought back to reality by the ringing on his cell phone. He looks at the caller ID and sighs: Danny. He has to answer him, or else brave the wrath of God when he gets back to Hawai'i. He bids Catherine good night, sorry for not having a few more moments alone with her, and heads to the guest room. Catherine smiles at Steve and follows his retreating figure out of the living room, until he disappears from her line of sight. She imagines Steve's nervous about telling Danny he's not coming home. Or maybe it's someone else calling and that's why he left the living room to take the call. Catherine realises that she hasn't heard any calls between Steve and Lynn, all the while they were in Montana, but that thought is little solace. She feels an inexplicable sadness take over her, despite the movie on TV, the fact that it's Christmas time and that she's at home, with her family.

In the guest room, Steve finally answers his phone.

\- "Hey, Danny. Sorry for not calling any sooner. How are you? How is everyone?"

\- "Hey, Steve. Everything's fine, here. And you?"

Steve's nerve falters at that precise moment. He prefers to postpone the problem. Until never, he hopes. "I'm all right, I guess. Danny… I'm not coming home for Christmas. I wouldn't be good company, this year. Please understand."

\- "Hey, it's OK, we all deal with grief in our own way. I kinda figured as much, by now. How are you feeling?"

\- "You know, sad, mad, tired of putting people I love in the ground," he says, placidly, surprised that Danny's cutting him some slack.

\- "I hear you. How was the funeral?"

\- "Awful. Not much more I can say about it."

\- "Wish I had been there, to support you."

\- "Yeah, Danny, about that…" Steve starts, wincing as he contemplates how to go about explaining Catherine.

\- "Hey, don't. You don't have to explain. I'm just happy to hear your voice, since I had to infer that you were still alive from the lack of bad news."

\- "Sorry, Danny. I just couldn't talk."

\- "Forget about it, I'm glad you're OK."

\- "Thanks, buddy," Steve concludes, wanting to end the conversation, cowardly leaving the Catherine subject for another time. 'Live to fight another day' comes to his mind, and he smiles to himself. "How is everyone in Hawai'i?"

\- "Everyone is fine, they're all eager to see you return."

\- "About that, Danny… it might be a few more days. Maybe a week or two. I don't really know."

\- "What's there to know? What's going on?"

\- "Nothing, nothing… I just need some time to get myself back into shape, that's all," Steve says, not wanting to share until he's sure of his next move. After all, Danny has a family.

\- "OK… I'm not sure I understand what's going on, Steve, but I will wait to hear from you. Don't worry about 5-0, we can hold down the fort, OK?"

\- "OK. Thank you, Danny. Give my love to everyone. And Merry Christmas to all. Tell Grace and Charlie I'm thinking of them. Tell them I'll spoil them when I get back."

\- "I will. You take care, OK?"

\- "Thanks, Danno."

And while Steve manages to get a very decent night's sleep, Danny is restless all night, wondering what's going on in Montana.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Steve walks past Catherine's room and is surprised to find her standing in the middle of the room, in quiet contemplation. He leans against the door jamb and quietly calls out to her.

\- "Good morning."

\- "Hey, good morning," Catherine smiles at him, happy. "How did you sleep?"

\- "Pretty well, all things considered. I got a solid 7 hours. May I come in?" Steve puts in, pointing to her bed.

\- "Of course! Have a seat," Catherine replies, sitting down as well, still looking around at all her childhood memories.

\- "Thanks. You know, I was very hesitant about coming, but after seeing how happy you and your parents are, I'm glad we came. I know you wouldn't have left me in Montana, by myself, so…"

\- "I really missed them all," Catherine acknowledges Steve's confession, smiling. "I spend so much time in the field, I sometimes forget how it feels to be in the fold, you know? I have a feeling this is a coping mechanism."

\- "How so?"

\- "You know, you don't think about the things you miss, so they don't unbalance you to the point of making you lose your focus."

\- "Do I detect a Dr. Rollins psych 101 theory, there?" Steve suggests, smiling at her.

\- "Well, you do know who I have for a mother, right? Something must've rubbed off…"

\- "Right…," Steve says, easy laughter coming out of his mouth. "Well, she's nothing if not sharp."

\- "And meddlesome, but I love her," she says, getting up. "Come on, let's go have breakfast. I have a few Christmas traditions to get reacquainted with."

\- "Do tell."

\- "You'll just have to wait and see."


	14. Chapter 14

While Catherine and her mother take command of the kitchen to prepare some Christmas specialties before lunch, her father retreats to his study to read some reports and Jimmy goes out to his girlfriend's house, who lives nearby. Left alone with her brother, Steve accepts his offer of a beer, and as both men move to the porch, outside, Peter asks him about Joe White. The conversation flows freely and Steve confirms his earlier thoughts that he likes Catherine's brother – genuine, to the point, practical, loyal. Just as a SEAL should be. Until, that is, he throws him a curve ball.

\- "So… are the two of you back together?"

\- "Huh? Who?" Steve replies, mentally choking.

\- "You and my sister? I'm sorry for asking, but I love Catherine. The last thing I want is for her to be miserable again."

\- "Again? What do you mean?"

\- "Look, Steve, you're a really nice guy and I like you, hooyah and all. But what happened two years ago, can't happen again. When you two broke it off, Catherine was devastated and I was powerless to help. I came home some weeks after she left Hawai'i, and although she didn't share much, from what I could see and hear, it really broke her. So I don't want her to have to go through anything like that, ever again."

This is the first Steve has ever heard of this. Come to think of it, after Catherine had left, he was so angry at her, he had wanted nothing to do with her and they hadn't seen or spoken to each other until she'd shown up at his door, in the middle of his date with Lynn, with news of his mother. So, no, he had never given Catherine's possible suffering, regarding their breakup, another thought, selfishly. He knew she loved him, so it was obvious that just because she had refused to give him her real reasons for leaving, that didn't mean that she hadn't suffered. But he had been blinded by his own pain, wounded in his Alpha male pride, and had thrown an ultimatum at her face.

\- "Ever think that maybe it was mutual?" he counters, unable to let go of the hurt, but not wanting to share too much with Catherine's brother.

\- "Steve, I'm not judging, like I said, I don't know what happened and I'm certainly not trying to treat my sister as an idiot who doesn't know what she's doing, or did. I hope you understand and don't hold it against me. I'm just worried about her. I wish she'd quit that damn job and come home, once and for all."

\- "I understand where you're coming from, Peter, believe me, if it were my sister, I'd be having the same conversation. Look, truth is, my job is all-consuming and I'm not oblivious to the effect it may have had on my relationship with your sister. But the Navy mentality was deeply ingrained in us, and we ended up not discussing things. You know how it is. I have a complicated family history, so I cope by not talking. Whatever your sister's reasons may have been, I really don't know them. She just came to me, one day, and told me she was leaving, couldn't tell me where she was going, how long she'd be away… I told her that I couldn't wait for her, if she left, after having been gone a whole year. She left, anyway. I had no idea that she wasn't happy, then or afterwards. I thought that the CIA was what she wanted, that that's why she ultimately left," Steve finishes, slightly relieved at finally having someone to talk to, about this. Someone who seems to know a bit more about what happened, than him.

\- "I'm still a little fuzzy on the details, actually. She tends not to share much about her love life. I guess we all thought you two would end up together," Peter says sighing, looking straight ahead.

\- "So did I. I mean, I knew she was sad about Billy's death, but…"

\- "Billy?"

\- "Harrington?"

\- "Navy?"

\- "SEAL. He resigned his commission and set up a private security firm in Hawai'i."

\- "Oh, yes, he asked Catherine to come work with him."

\- "Exactly."

\- "And he died on a stakeout. I remember. When my mother found out that Catherine had been shot in the arm, she went crazy. But no one's ever been able to tell Catherine what to do. Not even my father."

\- "I can relate. I learnt that the hard way," Steve says, smiling to the void ahead of him. "Not that I ever wanted to tell her what to do. But I wish we had talked more, back then. Maybe…" he leaves the possibility in midair, not wanting to complete the thought.

\- "… you'd still be together? Yeah. Maybe. But you know what, Steve? That's the great thing about free will and hindsight. Sometimes, we get to amend our mistakes, if we wish to. And in this particular situation, there's still something you can do about it. If nothing else, you can tell my sister how you felt about her decision to leave."

\- "What's the point, Peter?"

\- "Clarification. Maybe she'll share back. Believe me, it'll be a million times better than continuing to wonder why. It'll give you closure. Peace of mind."

\- "Yeah, well, I'm not so sure I want closure anymore," he says, in a sharing mood.

\- "Just remember one thing – try not to hurt her. Please."

\- "I won't. Promise," Steve replies, looking Peter in the eye, serious.

\- "Thanks. Come on, let's go steal some cookies from the kitchen. It'll drive Catherine up the wall!"

\- "You really think that's going to piss her off?" Steve asks, surprised at how playful the brothers are with each other. He finds it really endearing.

\- "This _ain't_ my first rodeo, Frogman," Peter says, amused, as he gets up.


	15. Chapter 15

Christmas dinner comes around soon enough, everyone having pitched in, everyone seemingly happy. Of course, Catherine can see the sad glint in Steve's eyes and she knows he's not short on reasons: Danny and the Ohana on Hawai'i, Mary and Joan in L.A., Joe, Aunt Debbie, his mother being AWOL, his father… she just hopes that her own little Ohana can minimize his pain, if only just a little. As for Steve… he feels at home, here, relaxed, at peace. How much of it is due to the season and the natural good will towards others and general merriment, and how much to the fact that it's Catherine's family, he's not really sure. It's as though he's granted a reprieve from real life, the one that hurts and cuts and bruises, as though the outside world was left exactly there, outside the door, on standby, for just a few days. He's slowly begun to heal his heart, and Catherine, and her family, are playing a big role in that. He silently thanks them for it.

After dinner, the family gathers in the living room and, tonight, "It's a wonderful life" is on TV. Halfway through the movie, Steve excuses himself to call Mary and Joan, first, and then Danny. He thinks of his mother with sadness; even if he wanted to, he wouldn't know how to reach her to wish her a Merry Christmas. He wonders where she may be and what she may be up to, after having received an encrypted text from her that morning. Well, at least she remembered she has two children, he thinks, with sadness. Mary is spending Christmas with friends, her own little Ohana, in L.A. Steve sighs again, with sadness, regretting still not having been able to fully mend his relationship with his sister. He wishes he could see them more often, but his job… is all consuming, he thinks again, with a slight _mea culpa_. Maybe it's time he made an effort, he thinks, adding that resolution to his upcoming New Year's list. Danny is partially drunk, when he calls; he's at Lou's, since Grace and Charlie will be with him tomorrow. Steve is happy that his brother is in good company and dismisses Danny's concerns about his loneliness with a pang of guilt. He wishes Lou and his family a Merry Christmas, calls Tani and Junior, and retraces his steps back to the living room, relieved that no one asked him any difficult questions.

Just as he's reaching the living room door, he spots Admiral and Mrs. Rollins putting on their coats – they're going to midnight mass. Jimmy is also getting ready to go out, probably to his girlfriend's house. He bids them goodbye and enters the living room, where Peter is nowhere to be seen. Sitting down next to Catherine, he turns to her, with a disarming smile.

\- "And we meet again… long time."

\- "Awwwww…. Missed me?"

\- "Always", he replies, tone both serious and playful. Catherine just smiles at him, sweetly. "What, no exchanging of presents?"

\- "Well, now, see, in this family, everyone goes to bed early. One Navy man, a Frog, a Doctor and a Psychologist. And me, of course. Traditionally, my parents go to church, both my brothers have fallen asleep on the couch by 10 p.m., and I stay behind, watching Christmas movies. So, we normally exchange presents in the morning. When there's even a _quorum_, obviously. But this, right here, is my Christmas thing and I absolutely love it.

\- "So… your brother's gone to sleep?"

\- "Oh, yeah, like clockwork. He never disappoints," Catherine says, laughing. "Bet you he took a plate of chocolate chip cookies to bed with him, he absolutely loves them. That's another tradition in this house."

\- "What? Watching him steal the cookies?" he says, smiling mischievously.

\- "Making them. I know he loves them, so I try to make some, if I'm home. Memories, you know? They're very important. I don't always get to be home, so when I am, I need to make the most of it."

\- "I hear you… family, right?" Steve says, pensive, turning sad again. "I think one of the reasons Joe decided to let go, that day, was because he didn't have anyone close, in his life… you know, a wife, children, grandchildren… no one to 'miss him'. Had he had those anchors in his life, I'm sure he would've fought harder."

\- "No, Steve, you can't know that. Didn't you tell me that he was dating a woman in Nairobi?"

\- "Yeah, but it was probably a recent thing," Steve goes on, not looking her in the eye. "I don't want to be like that, Cath… I want to have reasons to live," he says, turning to her, unable to contain his tears. She cradles him against her chest and rubs circles on his back, soothingly, trying to calm him down. Steve sits back on the couch, eyeing Catherine, finally deciding to ask what he's been dying to ask, now that they're sitting alone, in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in blankets, lulled by a very well-lit Christmas tree.

\- "Have I thanked you yet?"

Surprise etched on her face. "For what?"

It should be obvious. "Coming to Montana, as soon as you found out."

\- "You don't have to thank me, Steve. I loved him, too."

\- "Of course I do, Cath. You have a life. For you to leave everything, at the drop of a hat, and come…"

\- "I had to. I wanted to pay my respects to Joe and be there, for you. I could imagine how hard you would be taking it all. I guess my feelings of protection spoke louder."

\- "You, protecting me? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

\- "Taking care of someone is not only protecting with more muscles and a gun... it's also being there, in silence, if need be, to support the other... make sure he eats, sleeps, doesn't fall apart... and that, I can do much better than you, right now. That's my job. That's also why I left everything and went out to Montana."

\- "So… basically, to mother-hen me?" Steve says, laughing.

\- "God, no! You're a bit too grown up to be my child," Catherine chuckles. "And stubborn."

Steve suddenly shifts the tone of the conversation from playful to serious, taking Catherine by surprise, looking her in the eye. "Have you ever thought about it?"

\- "What, having kids?" she counters, immediately understanding where his mind has gone.

\- "Yeah..."

\- "No, not so much, anymore...," her tone is carefree, but he can detect sadness in her eyes. Despite that, he prods further. He may never get another chance; the way she keeps scouring the globe on her missions, he has no idea when he'll see her again.

\- "But you did, at some point?"

\- "A lifetime ago, perhaps... it's most people's natural course, I guess…," Catherine says, nostalgia colouring her features. She's thinking about her previous Hawai'i life, where she had pictured herself having his children. It's as though all that domesticity was laid to rest the day she left, and any other man she might date in her life would have to settle for a different Catherine, the secret agent looking for terrorists, always on the go, but never the mother and wife. That role was once reserved for him. And it's not happening anymore in this lifetime, she sighs as she remembers why.

\- "Why not anymore?"

\- "You do know the work I do, right?"

\- "You mean..."

\- "Yes, I mean. The Spy-I-A, as Danny likes to call it. The Agency. The Big Bad Wolf. They do good work, you know? Save a lot of lives..."

Deep sigh. She's defending herself. Probably partially explaining why she left. "I know, Cath. And I'm sure it's a better place for having you in it."

Relief evident in her features. At least they can talk about it, now. "Thanks."

\- "So... kids? Have you totally written them off your life's narrative?"

\- "I guess... I'd have to make a choice, wouldn't I?"

\- "And... you love your job too much?"

\- "I've grown accustomed to it, you know? Can't see myself doing a 180 and being stuck behind a desk for the remainder of my days..."

\- "But isn't that par for the course?"

\- "What do you mean? Because I'm getting older?"

\- "No... Because you're evolving? You know, taking on more responsibilities, climbing the ladder? You'll eventually be offered a supervisory role, am I right?"

\- "God, I hope not!"

\- "Why? You want to keep risking your life on missions? What is this force that compels you?"

\- "You're kidding... you're asking ME that?" she smiles, not a hint of aggressiveness.

\- "I'm just trying to understand, Cath…"

\- "It's the nature of the job... YOU still risk your life, every single day, right?"

Now it's his turn to feel the need to defend himself and his actions. "I'm taking a back seat from a lot of the physical work, I'll have you know..."

A heartfelt laugh erupts from her lips. "Wow, now THAT I never expected to hear..."

\- "Yeah. Exactly. I've lost a lot of my health to the job and at some point we start to question ourselves - is it all worth it? Giving up our personal lives for the job? We must grow, be a little selfish, and want something of our own... Why can't you?"

\- "What do you mean?"

\- "Kids - why not?"

\- "Like I already said, job... why are you fixated on this?"

\- "And like I already said, no job in this world should prevent you from having a baby, if that's what you want..."

\- "And then there's the other matter, you know, biology..."

\- "Meaning?"

\- "Oh, you know. I can't exactly do a single production here, like sea horses..." She chuckles at his surprised face. "It takes two."

\- "Oh, these days? You're kidding," he dismisses her with a flick of the hand.

\- "Call me conservative, but I'm not too crazy about the idea of bringing a child into this world who will, in turn, have no father... and thinking about going at it alone simply doesn't rock my boat. I have my job to keep me busy, it fulfills me well enough. Plus, my brothers will eventually have kids of their own. I'll have nephews."

Thinking about himself, he is adamant. "It's NOT the same thing..."

\- "No, but in the end, the day only has 24 hours... and I get to help children in a different way..."

\- "And in here?" Steve points to his heart. "Is it all the same?"

\- "What...?"

\- "Empty heart at present... full heart with a man and a baby?"

\- "Oh, my God, that's so... backwards!" Catherine says, laughing wholeheartedly. "So conservative!"

\- "I'm simply following your reasoning, young lady", Steve says, eyeing her again.

Catherine catches a glimpse of seriousness in Steve's eyes and is not sure what exactly they're talking about. She realises, suddenly, that she has a choice – deflect or delve into it, and she's not sure she wants to go there. Not with how they stand, at present. She breathes heavily and looks at him sideways, realising that since he asked, she may as well reply and satisfy his curiosity. She's in a sharing mood, rocked by the liquour she consumed at dinner. They're friends, after all, right?

\- "Look, in my mind, a child is a consequence of a relationship between two people. Who love each other and have a life project together. That child is the result of their love and is meant to be raised by both parents, together. I have no one in my life, right now - like I said, the job takes up all my free time - so I don't even possess the stepping stones to this baby thing you speak of: time and a father. What's the point of even thinking about it?"

\- "Cath, you're being very one-track minded. You were in the Navy. You made an active decision to leave. You joined the CIA. Another active decision," Steve says, sighing, leaving the obvious remainder of the sentence unsaid. "If you wanted to have a baby, you'd simply make that decision and move accordingly, right?"

\- "I guess... but then there's the other part. I don't want to go at it alone. I simply don't want a baby that badly..."

\- "I see. And I understand. But… if you were dating?"

\- "Who knows? It would have to come from the inside, you know, an itch you had to scratch..." Catherine says, with a levity she definitely does not feel. In the confessional atmosphere they've conjured, she decides to satisfy her own curiosity. "How about you? Ever wanted?" she asks, thinking _"in for a penny, in for a pound"_. They may as well talk about it now, since they never did, when they were together.

\- "Sure... there's one woman I could see myself having kids with...", Steve says, looking intently at Catherine as she pushes a piece of invisible lint out of her trousers, trying actively not to think of Lynn and failing miserably, an image of her face popping up in her mind's eye. She looks up and smiles encouragingly, all the while feeling her heart break.

\- "I understand. None of us are getting any younger, right? You'll make a wonderful father, make no mistake."

\- "Yeah, well, I'm not so sure about that... didn't exactly have the best role models..." he casts his eyes down, thinking back to his mother.

\- "Come on, Steve, you realise what you're saying? You're a great human being, kind, always willing to help your fellow man, selfless, competent, understanding, tolerant, sweet and adorable when you want to be... any child would be super lucky to have you as a father. Trust me on this," Catherine says, smiling sweetly.

\- "And you as a mother, Cath... and you as a mother," he throws back at her, with a smile he doesn't realise he reserves only for her.

\- "Thanks. You're very kind for saying that."

\- "It's the truth", Steve says, placing an arm around her shoulders and making her lean into him. They spend the next half hour watching the movie in silence, thinking about the conversation they just had and the ramifications of it. Catherine can't help but think that they've crossed a hitherto forbidden border of some kind, by talking so openly about something that is so personal, but also that might have very easily involved them both, on a not so distant past. Come to think of it, she's not really sure of what exactly Steve meant by all his questions, and the thought leaves her uneasy and feeling awkward.

By the end of the movie, Steve has also fallen asleep, leaning against her shoulder. "Weak Christmas men," she thinks, amused, as she flicks through the channels for another classic to take her late into the night.


	16. Chapter 16

Catherine and Steve end up staying for New Year's, at the prodding of her parents. They hardly ever see Catherine, these days, and miss their daughter, so she doesn't have the heart to deny them another few days. Steve is very surprised at how much he enjoys the domesticity of being with Catherine's family, and at finding out that he genuinely misses her. He's very happy that he came, in the end.

By January 2nd, new intel and footage of Gregers Thomsen has been sent to Catherine, so they go back to 'mission mode'. Her brother Peter also needs to go back to his ship, so the three say their goodbyes to Catherine's parents, Steve genuinely thanking them for their hospitality, as they helped heal a lot more than a sad heart. The three drive to the airport together, Steve naturally taking command of Peter's rental car, to Catherine's amusement. With wishes for a safe return to his ship, Catherine and Steve bid her brother goodbye and head for their gate, to catch their plane back to Montana.

The next few days are occupied with planning their extraction op. After all the details are finalised, Catherine and Steve head to Stockholm, where they are met by a local CIA team, fully briefed on the mission. The extraction goes by without a glitch, and Steve silently thanks the higher powers for the help and for the fact that no one got hurt. This may be his own, personal _vendetta_, but he still needs outside help, and the CIA is a good ally to have, he has to begrudgingly agree. They return to Montana on a CIA plane, since no official channel would let them effectively kidnap a foreign national and bring him to US soil, against his will. However, the lawyer is savvy and defiant; he refuses to give out any information on his employer, perhaps because he instills more fear into him than Steve. After a day of not making any headway, Steve calls Catherine and tells her he needs to proceed to other methods. She acquiesces and leaves him to it, not feeling sorry for the man in the least. She has noticed that Steve has reverted back to the grieving man she found when she first arrived; he's quieter, more pensive, less talkative. His anger is back and he wants revenge. Thomsen will be the first to feel the weight of his retribution, Greer last.

Two hours later, Thomsen still isn't amenable to talking and Steve's bloody hands are a testament to that. He opens the door to the small room, inside the barn, and heads outside to the horse's trough, bucket in hand, when he spots a car in the open expanse of meadow, heading their way. His survival instincts kicking in, Steve crouches behind the trough, hand on his gun, trying to figure out if the occupants of the car pose a threat. He does a double take, at that moment, when he realises that not only is there only one occupant, but also that occupant seems to be Danny.

Slowly getting up at the sight of a blonde head of slicked back hair, Steve breathes deeply, relieved. As the two men hug each other, Danny gets right to what brought him here: bringing Steve back home. However, that plan spectacularly backfires on him, when he hears a door squeak and sees the person exiting from it, slowly coming forward, until she stands in front of a post, cautious: Catherine. Danny's sarcastic nature takes hold and he can't disguise his disapproval at the scene before him. Uttering an 'I see what's going on and I don't like it' sound of displeasure, he makes his feelings known in no uncertain terms, as he greets her.

\- "Hey, I did… I didn't mean to interrupt", Danny says, flailing his arms about.

Always composed, Catherine is very civil, but answers him nonetheless, slight frown marring her features.

\- "What exactly did you think you were interrupting?" she counters, crossing her arms across her chest, a classical sign of defensiveness, and leaning back, not moving towards Danny. He's made her uneasy, and she knows why. The spectre of their last conversation, three years ago, where she'd been less than unambiguous, still hangs in the air. She tries to disguise how uncomfortable she is by looking to Steve for moral support, but he just walks past her into the little room, bucket in hand, dogged. Catherine looks back at Danny, slightly annoyed, wanting to hear his answer.

\- "I don't know, the… grieving process?" he throws back at her, as he continues to walk in her direction, opening his arms to hug her. He still feels like the same Danny who she worked alongside with for over a year; who was her friend for much longer than that, and he hugs her as though he's missed her. This is hard, Catherine thinks, when they move back to where Steve disappeared to.

When Danny sees a bloody Thomsen, face beat to a pulp, he is even more annoyed at Steve's recklessness and Catherine's inability to put a stop to his madness. Despite that, his continued sarcasm and jab at Catherine, "I liked it better when I thought you two were playing house" are met with indifference on her part, while she answers his question directly, looking him in the eye. Now is the time for getting serious. She'll talk to Danny later.


	17. Chapter 17

When Catherine shuts the door to the small room, Danny sighs, annoyed, and sits down on the wooden table right outside, willing to wait out the torture session. He really doesn't know how to approach Catherine without losing his temper, since he is now doubly annoyed at her: for leaving without an explanation and lying to him, but also for letting a grieving Steve get himself into a potential mess. How would he begin to explain THIS to the Governor? Catherine sits down next to him, on the bench, at a comfortable distance, both facing away from the table. She's willing to wait with him, but is not in a mood to talk. However, Danny not only has a few things to get out of his chest, but also Gregers Thomsen is being tortured right next to him, so he needs a distraction. Unnerved by the screams, Danny begrudgingly acknowledges Catherine, properly.

\- "So… how have you been? Long time, no see." The resentment is going to be hard to hide, he thinks, with sadness. He always liked Catherine, but he isn't really managing to control his feelings, right now. He needs to rehash her departure, however much he knows he shouldn't.

\- "I'm well, Danny. How are Grace and Charlie? Rachel?" Catherine answers in a level voice, turning 90 degrees in his direction, no hint of a smile.

\- "Great. Which you'd know, if you at least called."

\- "Danny…" Catherine sighs, looking at him, voice even, emotions in check.

\- "No, don't bother, you know what, I don't want to know," he says, anger finally boiling over, mouth closed, arms gesturing wildly, signaling the finality of his decision. "You left, so now you don't get to ask me about the Ohana. Let's stick to the matter at hand, OK?"

Catherine understands his anger and actually expected it, the minute she saw him coming out of the car; unlike Steve, who bottles all his feelings up, Danny wears his heart on his sleeve and his face shows his every emotion.

\- "I'm sorry you feel that way, Danny. Maybe one day we'll have the opportunity to talk about what happened. But not now. We need to focus and prepare," Catherine answers, with a kind smile, letting him know that she is not angry at his reaction. She resumes her previous position, and waits.

\- "Sure, deflect. Anyway, tell me, how's he been?" Danny counters, unable to let go, but annoyed at how Catherine always shies away from explaining her reasons.

\- "Oh, you know, typical Steve, he's built protective walls around himself, not only to keep me out, but also to guard against unwanted emotions."

\- "He's an expert at that, sure," Danny agrees, leaning his head in.

\- "He's functioning… and grieving. Going through the motions. Surviving with angry defiance, like placing a wager that death can be beaten at its game."

\- "And how's that been working out for him?"

\- "He's coping with the loss as best he can, I think. But putting this matter to rest and capturing Greer and Hassan will help a lot," Catherine goes on, happy to be able to prepare Danny for what the general plans are.

\- "No kidding… but at what cost, Catherine? At what cost?" Danny laments, thinking about the consequences. "What's he thinking of doing to that man, in there, after he manages to get the information he needs? I mean, if it was Hesse or Wo Fat, I'd understand, but this is a very grey area… how will he cope with his conscience, at the end of this?"

\- "It'd be far worse if he wasn't given the chance, Danny, ever think of that? Steve's not the kind of man to have qualms over the death of a criminal who ordered the deaths of a second father, as well as 4 guys from his SEAL team, you know that. As for Thomsen… we'll send a team to secure him, once this is all over. The Swedish authorities will want to have a chat with him, after everything we've unearthed."

\- "You do understand that very well, don't you?" Danny is sad for her, now, and his voice reflects that.

\- "Sure", she says, eyeing him seriously. "I do this kind of stuff every week, Danny. It's my reality."

\- "I'm sorry, Catherine. For judging you. I know it must be really hard and that someone must do it," he goes on, still angry, apologizing for what he wants to say next. "But I just… I just wish it didn't have to be you."

\- "What do you mean?" She seeks clarification, in hopes of not having lost Danny forever.

\- "You're tainted by association, you know? I know you, and I can perfectly separate Catherine from the CIA. But at what point do you start to merge with them? In Steve's mind, that's a huge drama."

\- "He knows what I do for a living…"

\- "Yeah, no, see…" Danny says, huffing ironically, "Knowing it and managing to store it in the "everything's OK" box, in one's brain, are two very different things. Normally, he's able to separate the two, because you're away, doing covert ops God knows where. But every now and then - and I think that when he's around you, those lines get blurred – he has to face the ugly reality."

\- "What ugly reality, Danny?"

\- "That you work for the big bad wolf. The Spy-I-A. The bad guys who took his mother from him. And you. Don't forget you!"

-"The CIA didn't take me anywhere, Danny. I went of my own free will."

\- "See, now, that's one of my oldest curiosities. Was there really a reason for your departure, after you told me, at that lookout point where we met, that you wanted nothing more than to stay? Because as the grown up, independent kick-ass woman that you are, I'm pretty sure that you decided your own destiny. Unless, of course, you were being forced to leave by the big bad wolf", Danny ends in triumphant annoyance, sarcasm lacing his every word.

Catherine is so surprised at Danny's question, she takes a second to compose herself. As she's about to answer him, the door to the little room opens and Steve comes out, bloodied hands, bucket in hand. Prodded by Danny, he tells the assembled company about Hassan's location. Relieved at the results, Danny suggests informing the CIA and getting them to act, giving Catherine the cold shoulder, effectively ignoring that she is CIA. He also thinks his suggestion might kill two birds with one stone: Catherine would leave again, hopefully forever, and take Thomsen with her. Two problems solved. However, when she makes a "uh-huh" sound, eliminating that option from the realm of possibilities ahead of them, Danny again turns to Steve and asks him if he wants him to go to Laos, stressing the question with a "you-to-me gesture", ignoring her again. When she tells him that "they ARE going to Laos", he looks to Steve, pleading with him that it's very far away and that he hasn't brought his passport. Catherine again answers that they won't need their passports, and he can barely control his anger at her. For enabling Steve and for having everything arranged, without him. But this time, since he wants to point out, to Steve, the madness of their endeavor, he now includes her in the count of able bodied people available to take on this operation. Steve tells him that there will be more people coming, and Danny runs out of arguments to throw at him. Laos it is.


	18. Chapter 18

**The next morning**

**0541 hours**

Tossing and turning in his bed for at least an hour, now, Steve's had enough. Taking care not to wake Danny up, he stealthily slips out from under the covers and gets up, heading for the kitchen to get a drink of water. The house in plunged in quiet darkness, no one stirring, and he feels eerily at peace, allowing his thoughts to run free. He's on edge about the mission, fully aware of the dangers and the possibility that one of them may perish. He really doesn't know if he'll be able to cope with that, but it's too late to back off, now. He called Harry two days ago, and true to form, the former MI6 operative had been more than willing to help. He feels comforted by that, given Harry's skill set and the fact that he has also become a good friend. He needs friends around him, right now, to keep him grounded and prevent him from spiraling out of control.

Suddenly, he's again struck by an uncontrollable desire to watch Catherine sleep. Memories flood him, of their life together in Hawai'i and suddenly, Steve realises how much he had genuinely loved this woman. Of course, at the time, he hadn't taken the time to fully reflect on it, because they were still getting used to living together in one place, permanently – a refreshing change from the Navy life – and he was always on the go, but now, with due distance, he knows. He still hadn't been able to admit it to his conscious self – maybe it's about time – that his actions, or lack thereof, were probably an important factor in her decision to leave, too. He sighs at the regret he feels for having let circumstances and time drive a wedge between them for so long, and makes a mental note to make sure to keep in touch more often. Once this is all over.

A few hours later, they're headed for the airport, where they're met by Junior and Lucia Bama, as well as Wade Gutches. The flight to Laos is relatively uneventful, but gives Steve time to think back to everything that has happened. He thinks of Joe, again and how much he regrets his demise; next, his mind turns to Greer, insides starting to boil, hands balling into fists. He can't believe he let the woman fool him for so long, and wonders what happened for her to go rogue. Could it have been just money? Was she always devoid of humanity, loyalty or love of Country? He was such an idiot! And now, because of it, Joe was dead. Steve sighs again, feeling the full weight of his guilt, absorbed in thought. Catherine's assurance that she will help him find Greer, whatever it takes, comforts him, too, and affords him the levelheadedness he needs to go on with the mission.


	19. Chapter 19

Two days later, Steve and Catherine are headed for China, after having obtained Greer's location from Hassan. Once Steve had told him that she was the real culprit for his father's death, he'd been more than willing to share the location of her hideout with his apparent enemy, with the promise that she would either be captured or killed. As it turns out, killed it was, at the hands of Catherine, as Steve wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger. He feels a gigantic weight being lifted out of him, at the sight of Greer lying on the floor, dead. Now he has truly avenged Joe's death and the death of his SEAL Morocco team. However, he also feels sad that it all had to come to this. The loss of a life is never a motive for joy and he did have feelings for Greer, at some point in the past. How sad that a death had to be claimed to settle another death. Or a few. He's glad he put a stop to the never ending cycle his SEAL team had started, when they had captured Hassan's father.

Back at the Military airbase, in Montana, the group disbands after saying their goodbyes. Wade Gutches gets on his bike to get back to his retirement, not before gifting Steve with wise words of "finding a good woman and settling down", and how proud he is of him, much like Joe had, in the past. Steve thanks him for his help and support throughout the mission. Junior and Danny busy themselves with transferring all their gear to the car that'll take them to the plane headed for Hawai'i, all the while giving Steve and Catherine some privacy to say their goodbyes. Danny knows Steve is suffering with her impending departure; he's seen it in his brother's eyes and it pains him that this woman still has this much power over him. His consolation is that soon, Catherine will be nothing more than a memory, again; fond for Steve, regrettable for Danny. He really resents her for everything that happened in the past and hates that she keeps showing up in his brother's life, to unbalance him. He watches from afar, as Steve turns to Catherine, a look of sadness suddenly assaulting his features.

\- "Hey." He knows this is it, but he doesn't want it to be. He so wishes she was coming home with him. That she wasn't about to get into a car and disappear again, in a puff of smoke, from his life. But he says nothing, because he can't forget that she was the one who left.

\- "Hey." She prepares for her goodbyes, made so much more difficult by the time they spent together, rekindling their friendship and remembering the life they had together. She so wishes that he would ask her to go back home, with him. But she knows that wish is mere sea foam, bound to disintegrate with the next wave and that he has a girlfriend at home, waiting for him.

\- "So, what's next for you?" He goes on, as if he doesn't know. But he really wants to delay this moment forever.

\- "Uh, back to the grind, you know… protecting the homeland, chasing bad guys, yadayadayada…." There's no point in sugarcoating it. You get to go home, to your Ohana, I get to go chase criminals around the world.

\- "Thank you so much, Catherine. We couldn't have pulled this off without you." She knows. She wishes he was thanking her for coming as soon as she heard, for making him dinner, for reassuring him after a nightmare, for holding his hand at Joe's funeral. But all those small things will forever remain buried in their collective memory, not meant to be spoken of again. They will stay behind, in Montana.

\- "He was a great man, Steve. We both owe him a lot." Save face, Catherine.

\- "You still don't know, huh?" Steve thinks he may as well tell her how important Joe was in bringing the two of them together.

\- "What do you mean?" '_What is there to know'?_

\- "Joe wasn't just my mentor. A father figure. He brought you into my life, Catherine."

As he explains, Catherine can clearly remember receiving that phone call. She loves the small story about Joe and silently thanks him for his hand in how events had turned out. Getting emotional, sad for how they are no longer together, at present, tears spring to her eyes, as Steve pulls her into a hug.

\- "I'm really glad you took his advice."

\- "I am, too."

\- "You take care of yourself, okay?"

\- "You, too, kid."

\- "Hey. Till next time."

As he contemplates her retreating figure, he really wishes she wasn't getting into that car and driving away. Steve's expression is one of sorrow and regret; he now knows, better than ever before, that Catherine is the right woman. But he can't bring himself to tell her that.

Still sad, Catherine gets in the car and dries her tears, before looking back at Steve, waving. She puts the car in gear and does a U-turn, quickly driving out of the airport and into the main road. Two miles ahead, no longer able to control the flow of tears, Catherine pulls over and breaks down crying. She's only now starting to feel the real weight of the roller coaster of emotions she went through, during the month she spent with Steve. She wonders how she'll be able to get back to her sterile life and not miss everything about her time in Montana. Suddenly, her job has lost a lot of its appeal.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve, Danny and Junior return to Hawai'i and life goes back to normal, much to everyone's relief. Tani, Adam and Lou don't ask too many questions and Steve is actually thankful. The rhythm of work at 5-0 is so hectic that he barely has time to get out of his travel clothes and into a vest as the three arrive on the island, so it takes Steve a few days to even start to process all that happened in Montana, Vientiane and China.

Most of all, he feels relief and gratitude. Relief for finally avenging Joe's death and honouring the man he was. He's glad he had time to have the small memorial made for him, by the old ponderosa pine, and hopes to one day be back, to lay some flowers by it. Joe was a very important person in his life and he sighs deeply, sad that he won't be by his side to witness whatever life brings next. Then, his mind turns to all the people who helped him and an enormous feeling of gratitude invades him. Despite all the pain and suffering life has thrown his way, he knows he would never have been able to go through this mission without the friends who surrounded him, when he needed them the most. He thanks each and every one of them mentally, in silence. Danny, his ever sarcastic partner, with a serious flair for the dramatic, but always there for him; Junior, his subordinate and fellow SEAL, loyal to a fault; Wade Gutches, Joe's old friend and ally, who came out of retirement to help; Lucia Bama, the daughter of his good friend Frank, who came immediately when he called; Harry, former MI6 operative, valuable ally, always willing to help, with his British flair. And Catherine. Something shivers in his chest, when he thinks of her. He really can't define what he feels for her at the moment, as gratitude is too small a word. She dropped everything to come to him as soon as she heard and managed to stay for almost a month, until the end. She brought the CIA's help without hesitation, not knowing how he would react to being reminded of the elephant in the room, which had ultimately come between them. She had been by his side every step of the way, willing to give her life for him, for his revenge. And she had ultimately ended up saving his life, when Greer had aimed her gun at him. He hadn't been caught by surprise by her, he simply hadn't thought he'd be able to kill her, and had prayed that she wouldn't try to shoot him. But Greer was bad to the core, until the end, and Catherine had had to carry out the ingrate task of taking her out. He thanks her for that too, silently. She saved his life, just like he had predicted before, on their way to Morocco, when they'd gone to save his mother. He winces when he thinks of how he treated her, when she'd interrupted his date, and feels ashamed of how he had felt when he had introduced Catherine to Lynn. He knew she hadn't expected to find another woman in her place, and, at the time, that had given him some satisfaction. She'd hurt him, it was only fair that he got the chance to return the favour.

Steve is not fooling himself; he knows something changed between them, while they were in Montana. If nothing else, he feels he has truly started to forgive her for lying to him, and for leaving, feeling increasingly surer that there must've been a reason other than the one she supplied at the time. Maybe he can now start to assess exactly what he feels for her, still – or back. He remembers the looks, the touches, the hugs, the talks, that made him see her in a different light, but more than that, that reminded him, vividly, of why he ever loved Catherine Rollins. She was always so easy to love. Sweet, but sharply incisive, highly intelligent; always there for him, but never pushy; girlfriend, but independent woman; she'd never demanded from him any more than he could give, whether due to his work, or his own personality. She'd accepted what he was willing to offer, and never demanded more. But that also meant that they hardly ever spoke about their dreams and aspirations, and in the end, that had proved fatal for the relationship. He had no idea that she wasn't happy to that degree, but being always busy with work or his Ohana, he had taken her for granted. Feeling annoyed at the conclusions he's reaching, he swears to himself that he will at least make an effort to stay in touch more often, where Catherine is concerned. He physically misses her, hearing her voice, seeing her smile, talking to her. She was always levelheaded and pragmatic, two qualities that he greatly admires, especially since they tended to occasionally temper his own, impetuous, actions and disposition.


	21. Chapter 21

A week later, as all members of Five-0 are unusually gathered in the office, filing reports or reviewing some old HPD unsolved cases, Steve receives a call from Duke that leaves him truly alarmed: there's been a bombing at the water purifying plant, and a plant worker has been killed. He and Danny immediately head out to the location, but _en route_, they get another call from Duke: this time, another bomb went off at Kalaeloa Airport, seriously damaging the facilities, and apparently having killed a few military personnel. Danny sighs, invaded by a sinister feeling; this is starting to look serious, and on two locations, at that. As the two men turn around to head to the airport, Steve calls Lou at the office and directs him to the water purifying plant with Tani, catching them up on the latest developments.

\- "Danny… remember that HPD report from two weeks ago, with some underworld rumours about a new player in town, asking questions about explosives?"

\- "Yes, but we tried to chase it up and it never went anywhere. Whatever it was, it died as soon as it started. Maybe now we know why," he sighs, uneasy. The loss of human lives is always unacceptable in any crime, but this feels like something different.

\- "Wait a minute," Steve reaches for the center console, dialing Iolani Palace. "Junior? Pull up HPD's reports from 2 weeks ago, we're looking for the one on explosives."

\- "Got it," Junior types the words into the mainframe computer and starts reading, "an undercover officer from vice reported hearing some rumours about a new player in town, looking for plastic explosives," he becomes quiet for a second, before proceeding, "Steve, we're talking a thousand pounds of explosives, the report was updated two days ago."

\- "Crap," comes the easy expletive, muttered under his breath. "Listen, Junior, send the crime lab to both locations, I want to know if there's any commonality between the two."

\- "I'll bet you there is, it's too much of a coincidence, two explosions in one day, what, minutes apart?" Danny exhales, sure he's read the situation correctly.

\- "Well, you know what Chin used to say, coincidences take a lot of planning," Steve mutters, speeding up.

Junior agrees by nodding, as he says, "Will do, I'll keep you posted."

Reaching the airport, Steve and Danny contemplate the level of destruction before them. The central building is in flames and at least one hangar is engulfed in smoke. HPD is crawling all over the place and both men head over to where Duke is, taking charge of the situation. Noelani is leaning over a tarp, and when both men come closer, they realise it contains two charred bodies, burned beyond recognition.

\- "Duke, what do we have?"

\- "Steve, four dead, five jets destroyed in the hangar, the main building was taken out by a bomb. CSU is still processing the scene, and we have to wait until the fire department puts out the fire so they can start over there. It looks bad, Steve," Duke says with a grave look on his face.

\- "What happened at the water plant, Duke?" Danny puts in, not willing to let go of his theory. If Duke confirms it, this case will go from a possible accident to domestic terrorism immediately.

\- "HPD is at the scene, too, I'll know more in a few hours. Looks like a bombing, as well, but I don't have any more details, I'm afraid. We have to wait."

\- "Let me know as soon as you do, Duke, I'll have to inform the Governor. This is bad, really bad."

Suddenly, Steve's phone rings and as he answers it and moves slightly away, Noelani starts to give the men her preliminary report. The dead are both male, and they died from the explosion. The other two bodies will be harder to extract from the rubble, and she'll get to them at the morgue. Suddenly, Steve moves closer to the trio and sighs, unable to believe what he's going to say next.

\- "There's been another explosion, at the Navy weapons depot. Eight military personnel are dead. This is a nightmare," he exhales, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Duke, hold down the fort, here. Danny, let's go. This is going to be a mess of monumental proportions. Oh, and, let me do the talking when we get to the base."

As they head to the car, Steve's phone rings again. He opens the door and sits down, letting the car's Bluetooth sync with his phone, and waits until it's on speaker, so he can start moving.

\- "Adam, talk to me."

\- "Steve, it was definitely a bomb, took out the functioning capability of the water purifying plant. You need to warn the governor. Apparently it was C-4, and a lot of it. CSU is still processing. I'll keep you posted."

\- "Thanks, Adam," Steve mutters, as both men drive to the Military facility, not looking forward to what's coming next.


	22. Chapter 22

The next few days are a succession of briefings, meetings at HPD and 5-0 headquarters, extremely late nights at the office and desperation. Three strategic locations on the island destroyed, thirteen dead, thousands forced to get their water supply from bottles, one angry Governor, hundreds of law enforcement personnel tired to the bone, unable to go home and kiss their wives and children, or have a home cooked meal, or sleep for more than 3 hours at a time. The team at 5-0 has been going on, non-stop, for that long as well. Steve goes back to the HPD report, to make sure he didn't miss anything. However, HPD had simply caught some chatter, on the grapevine, about something big about to happen, but were unable to find out a lot of details on it. Without any further Intel, 5-0 could do nothing more than tell HPD to keep their ears pinned to the ground, and maybe lean on their CIs for any more information.

On the morning of the fourth day, Duke shows up at headquarters with news; the undercover officer from vice came through with more details. It turns out, the plastic explosives had been bought on the mainland, and then brought to the island via a makeshift airstrip the middle of the jungle, by a local: Akamu Kahele. Despite trying to fly under the radar, his flight had been flagged by Hawaiian aviation, and when Police had arrived, they'd found only the biplane. But one of the local men roped in to help unload the cargo was the undercover officer's confidential informant, and he had hinted at the possibility that the crates were all filled with explosives. As Steve calls Danny, he asks Junior and Lou to get in touch with the officer and go through his file on the small time criminal, and Tani and Quinn to then go pick him up at his house. Adam suggests tapping into his own, underworld connections to try to find out if the Yakuza had any hand in the bombings.

Akamu Kahele does not prove easy to track down or capture; despite managing to find his last address, according to his parole officer's file, the man seems to have disappeared without a trace. Steve and Danny know that his disappearance is not good news and hope they can track him down, nonetheless, from browsing known associates to talking to neighbours. However, a scan of the neighbourhood yields nothing usable, since the neighbours refuse to help the police, angered by years of suspicion and accusations of wrongdoing. On their way back from the location, they receive a call from Tani and Quinn, letting them know that Kahele has a brother, Kaikane, who also lives on the island and has no registered job.

As they reach the address, and by now eerily aware that this may prove to be a case unlike most of their daily cases, Steve and Danny proceed with caution, nervous. One of the brothers may be a small time crook, but he has powerful and dangerous people behind him (or leading him), to have been able to carry out three simultaneous bombings on an island teeming with law enforcement officials. After knocking twice, Kaikane Kahele doesn't answer the door, and when Danny positions himself at the rear of the house, he spots a man trying to exit through the window. His capture is swift and simple; the man does not seem to be a hardened criminal and is, in fact, scared. Steve and Danny sit him down on his living room couch and inquire after his brother. Kaikane tries to deny any knowledge of Akamu, but when Steve threatens to take him into his custody, mentioning it won't be the same as being locked up in a police cell, the man opens his eyes very wide and starts to profess his innocence in the whole affair. However, it doesn't take Steve and Danny long to extract vital information from him: his brother had, indeed, been staying with him for a few days, apparently hiding out from a weapons buyer who had recently arrived on O'ahu. He also tells them that he left, after the sale was concluded and that he had help from a few of his old "friends" to go undercover, for a while, until the aftermath of the sale blew over. With a few names for reference, Steve cuffs the man and drops him off at HPD headquarters, prompting Duke to keep leaning on him for information.

The hours that follow are spent chasing the other criminals who supposedly helped Akamu broker the explosives deal. At around 9 p.m., a call comes in from Kamekona, who Steve had asked Tani to get in touch with, with news. One of the perps has been hiding out at an abandoned warehouse at the harbor, but when the team gets there, he's nowhere to be found. There is blood evidence of a death, so CSU is called and asked to process the scene. Steve is getting really frustrated at the lack of news, but suddenly Adam comes through: the Yakuza, although not having been involved in the bombings, seems to have been contacted and he has a name: Ahmed Zahed. He appears to be a mere foot soldier, but Steve doesn't care – he wants to know who is behind the bombings and the name is a start. Half an hour later, they all reconvene at headquarters, where everyone gets down to the business of trying to compile the information HPD has on the man.

\- "According to Customs, he is an Afghani national. He arrived three days ago on the island," Tani states, putting up his passport photo on the big screen. "31 years old, he's an old acquaintance of the NSA."

\- "What the hell was he doing on the island and why weren't we warned of the risk he posed?" Steve asks, frustrated, running his hand through his face. "Unbelievable!"

\- "Well, you'll have to ask the NSA that, but his file reads like a shopping list of crimes. He should've been flagged on arrival, I don't get it."

Suddenly, the team hears the double glass doors open and two government agents walk through, looking anxious. Steve sighs, mutters "figures" under his breath, and braces for more trouble, or maybe, finally, an explanation of what's going on. When the men ask to speak to him in private, he blows them off, annoyed. He's tired, wired and losing patience, and his team also needs to hear what they have to say. Relaying information, at this point, will only serve to delay their actions and he's tired of waiting, due to the lack of progress that they've been experiencing.

\- "Commander, we're from the NSA," the first man starts, only to be interrupted by a sneering sound from Danny, annoyed. "As I was saying," he goes on, while Danny stares him down, defiantly, "we flagged Ahmed Zahed as he arrived on the island, three days ago."

\- "And why weren't we informed?"

\- "We did not deem him dangerous enough for the security forces to be made aware of his presence," the man goes on, not looking Steve in the eye.

\- "You mean, you tried to hide his presence here. You hoped he was on holiday, or you were hoping to arrest him for some other crime?"

The men squirm, seemingly uncomfortable to even answer Steve. "We had information that he might be looking to broker an arms deal and we were hoping to capture him and his accomplices."

\- "But you failed to do proper surveillance and he brokered an explosives deal under your noses and gave you the slip. Nice. Great job."

\- "Unfortunately, he knew he was being watched. And we couldn't watch him any closer, for fear of him figuring out that he was being followed. Commander, these are our protocols," the man concludes, shielding himself and his Agency in the rules of engagement.

\- "Could've at least warned us! We could've avoided 13 dead, the water supply to half the island blown to pieces and a very nervous Navy Commanding Officer who's been breathing down my neck for the last three days!" Steve finishes, furious. "Now, what?"

\- "We're here to help. We have a few names for you," the man goes on, chastised. "And we are available to help with anything your team may need," he says, as he lays his mobile phone on the smart table and clicks on a few buttons, bringing up the information he has for the team. "This is a man by the name of Al-Nazri, and we think he's the mastermind behind the bombings."

The face of an Arab man comes up on screen, filling it completely, staring each member of the team in the face. He appears to be in his thirties, pleasant face that would not stand out in a crowd, tan, brown eyes. In one picture, he has a rough beard and is dressed in _peraahan tunbaan (1),_ the typical Afghani clothes; in the other, he could be a visiting scholar from Oxford University.

\- "He's an Afghani national and he arrived on the island two days ago. We have him passing through customs with a false passport, but unfortunately the forgery was so good, it took us a whole day to realise that. This means that he has access to a really good forger and that entering the country under an alias was part of his plan.

\- "Clearly," Steve says, still annoyed. "But why do you think it was him?"

\- "He's been referenced in terrorist activities, at home and mostly abroad, but we've never been able to even capture him. He disappeared this morning, just before the bombs went off. We are not aware of any other activity while he was on the island. He didn't visit any tourist spots, he didn't eat at any restaurant, and he didn't take any scenic tours, didn't sleep at any known hotel. No matter how hard you try, there is no apparent reason for him to have come."

\- "But he could've come to do another illegal deal," Danny adds, suspicious. "Why are you sure it was this one?"

Again, the men squirm and look uncomfortable. "Two years ago, Al Nazri's brother was killed on a joint NSA-CIA operation in Kabul, and the team that took him out came from here, so we can only assume he wanted to get even with Hawai'i, as well as the USA. He was responsible for the deaths of two dozen children from a nearby village whose parents had refused to let them join Al-Qaeda. He may have been the younger brother, but he was cruel and deadly."

Everyone goes completely silent, contemplating the horror of so many innocent deaths, but also of the fallout from that mission. "Big brother had to run and hide and we were unable to capture him. The mountains of Afghanistan are not for the faint hearted. We never received any more intel on him, until yesterday, so he really went into hiding, probably bid his time, orchestrated his revenge. By the time we realised the danger of having that man loose on the island, we got our best men on the case, but unfortunately it proved too late," he ends, exhausted. "So we know we dropped the ball, Commander, but we want to help."

\- "What more do we know about him?" Steve nods, getting down to business. It's too late for this crap.

It's Tani's turn to talk. "From what I can read here, born in Afghanistan, in a town called Khayfan, and rose to prominence within the Al-Qaeda about five years ago."

\- "Yes, he's been consistently moving up, within the ranks. Which only goes to prove how dangerous he is. He's also a very intelligent man, educated in England, and radicalized in their mosques. We got his MI-6 file this morning and frankly, we were alarmed," the most talkative of the two agents adds.

\- "Let's go back… Where is Ahmed Zahed, right now?" Danny asks, wanting to move forward.

Another wince, from the NSA spokesman. "We don't know. We lost track of him. He may still be on the island, or he may have already left. With a false passport like the one he used, we believe he can travel anywhere. Naturally, as soon as we found out about his arrival, we flagged his passport, and so far, no one matching his description has tried to leave, at least not through the normal channels."

\- "Well, thank you for coming over to brief us on the situation. You have my number, let's keep in touch," Steve concludes, sensing that there isn't much more the two men can add to what they already know. They dropped the ball, and they know it.

\- "Commander, ladies, gentlemen," the man nods, and with that they both turn round and leave. It's the middle of the night, Steve still has to brief the Governor on the little they know and his team is falling to pieces.

\- "Guys, go home. Not much more we can do at this hour. HPD is canvassing possible hideouts and keeping the airports and heliports under surveillance. It's time to bury the dead and take care of the living. Go get some sleep, let's meet back here in a few hours."

With that order, most of the team disbands, but Danny lingers, inconspicuously. He follows Steve into his office, worried about his friend and the apparently tenuous grip on the situation he has, right now.

\- "Steve, you also need to get some sleep. You still haven't recovered from Montana, remember?"

\- "Danny, there's no time. We need to get on top of this. Plus, right now, I need to call the Governor. Not a call I want to make."

\- "I know, but at least try to rest. Even if it is on the couch," Danny says, looking doubtful of the couch's ability to provide any semblance of comfort.

\- "You go on ahead, Danny. I'll see you later."

\- "OK, Call me if anything changes, OK?"

**(1)** shirt/pants outfit


	23. Chapter 23

Morning is unwelcomingly quiet, not bringing any more news, but around lunch time Duke calls, letting 5-0 know that a body matching Akamu Kahele's description has been found in the basement of a house in a residential neighbourhood. Steve starts to get the sinking feeling that Ahmed Zahed is long gone, having tied up any loose ends that might lead authorities to his identity. A day later, the NSA agent that had visited 5-0 informs Steve that Zahed was spotted in Japan, at the airport, with the help of face recognition software, and that he had boarded a plane for Lahore, in Pakistan. From there to Afghanistan, his native land, it was merely a question of a 2-hour flight or even a car ride.

The funerals of the Navy personnel killed by the bombings are austere and sombre; all the top Navy Officers are in attendance, as well as the Governor and Police officers serving on the island. The sight of all the men's families receiving the burial Flag is daunting for everyone at 5-0; the 21-gun salute seems to remind everyone, with each firing, of the fragility of human life, but also of the gratuity of this attack. Steve is back at Joe's funeral, right now, and much like then, he feels an uncontrollable fury take hold of him. He realises ironically that he was lucky, when it came to Joe, because he got to go after the men who came for them and get his revenge. Suddenly, he realises he won't be able to simply let this go. Just because a misguided terrorist had decided to avenge his criminal brother's death, killing thirteen good people… he had to let it go? To pass on all the information 5-0 had managed to gather to some unknown CIA team and hope for the best?

The next day, a plan slowly starts to form in his head and, two days later, he's managed to convince the Governor to let him go after Al Nazri, much to Danny's desperation. He'll be damned if he'll let the terrorists just go scot-free. So he liaises with the Navy and gets them to approve of his incursion into the country, under the guise of reserve duty, which he's due for, anyway.

Explaining his decision to the team is a little harder. Nobody understands why he needs to go himself, why he can't just relay the information to the CIA, in the field, and just have them deal with the problem. Steve's reasoning is that they won't be half as invested in solving the problem as he is, shying away from telling everyone how much he doesn't trust the Agency. The fact that a highly graduated officer tried to have him and his team killed, just because he was getting close to finding the truth about Wo Fat's mother's death, doesn't reassure him in the least.

Danny is incredulous, and lets everyone know. Deep down, he's terrified that Steve will pull one of his 'Captain America' stunts and get himself killed; if he's being honest with himself, he doesn't even want to consider the possibility that his friend is actively trying to get himself killed, after the whole Joe White incident. As the heated discussion gets underway, the team discreetly disbands to go to their respective offices, hoping Danny manages to convince Steve of the madness of his decision.

\- "Steve, why? Just tell me why," he tries to keep his voice level, as they enter the office. This has been a very frustrating day, so far, and it's not looking like it'll get any better. On the contrary.

\- "Danny, I want him. That son of a bitch killed thirteen people and he got away. I can't accept that."

\- "Yes, he got away! He's back in the mountains of Afghanistan, with his terrorist friends, in a land that he's 100% familiar with, with local resources at his disposal, with fellow insurgents everywhere. What makes you think that you have any chance of even finding out where he's gone off to?"

\- "Danny, I have to try," Steve offers no more explanation, busying himself with haphazardly throwing some items into a bag.

\- "Are you sure this isn't some misplaced attempt at atoning for Joe?" Danny goes on, hesitating, but finally deciding he has to say it.

\- "Huh? What do you mean?" Steve is surprised at Danny's words and stops, considering his question carefully.

\- "You told me yourself, you feel guilty for Joe's death, which I told you you're obviously not, but you never listen," Danny starts, arms flailing, as though what he's saying is obvious to everyone, but the man standing in front of him. "However, this is not the way to process that grief, Steve," he concludes, inwardly cursing Catherine for not even managing to rid Steve of the guilt he feels for Joe.

\- "Danny, listen. I know you're worried about me, but that is another bus entirely," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "I am OK, regarding Joe. I managed to process my grief and I know I need to move on. It's what he would've wanted. Really."

Danny looks him in the eye, surprised that he seems to be sincere. He can detect a strength and a dogged determination he hasn't seen in a long time. The old McGarrett is back, and it's about time. Sadly, that also means that the crazy, impetuous, "shoot first, ask questions later" gung-ho SEAL is, too.

\- "So… you mean you really only want to go to Afghanistan to capture Al Nazri? No ulterior motives?"

\- "Yes, Danny, no ulterior motives and look on the bright side, you'll get to drive your car while I'm away."

\- "Funny. I'd rather I didn't. What did the Governor say?"

\- "He understood my motivations. Asked me to not stay away too long, but told me he trusts the team. Plus, you'll be staying, to hold down the fort, so he's confident all will be fine."

\- "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

\- Danny Williams in Afghanistan! Perish the thought!" Steve laughs, amused.

\- "Funny."

Steve returns to his desk to prepare for the mission. Seven hours later, he's on a military plane headed for Shanghai.


	24. Chapter 24

**Shindand Air ****Base**

**Herat Province, Hari Rud Valley, **

**Afghanistan**

**January 23r****d**

**1030 Hours**

As the Hercules C-130H fixed-wing touches down, Steve jerks awake, momentarily unaware of his whereabouts. His tiredness has finally caught up with him and the uncomfortable position he's half-sat, half-lied in, for the past 15 hours and change, hasn't helped any. He reaches in the jacket pocket of his uniform and fishes out his rejection meds, downing them with a slug of water, sighing at remembering that this will be a habit he must maintain for the rest of his natural life. Straightening up in the uncomfortable folding chair, propped against the side of the belly of the plane, Steve thinks back to the reason he's currently about to land in a US military base in Herat province. Against the advice of his colleagues at 5-0, he had asked the Governor for some days' leave. He needed to see this case through, and the terrorist they had identified as the mastermind behind the bombings in several strategic spots on the island had fled to his native land, so Steve simply couldn't bring himself to let the man disappear, without chasing after him. After having the Governor's office liaise with the Navy, and being granted approval, by his Navy superiors, for this mission, under the guise of a Reserve Drill, he had set for Afghanistan immediately after securing a place on a military transport plane out of O'ahu.

A few minutes later, Steve gathers his rucksack and walks out of the plane behind his Navy and Army colleagues, the freezing cold immediately attacking his senses like a punch to the face, arid, sudden and harsh. He takes a few seconds to contemplate the sheer size of the base, barracks rising from the desert sand like a mirage, and can't help but be impressed. He's due to report to Captain Hamilton, whom he doesn't know, on arrival, and he really hopes that all the formalities he must go through will be quick and painless, as he has a job to do and the man he is chasing not only has several hours' lead on him, but also knows the area like the back of his hand.

An Ensign stands at attention at the end of the runway, near a building that Steve assumes to be the terminal and control tower rolled into one, looking attentively at the personnel passing through, perhaps in hopes of spotting the one he's been charged with locating. He heads over and greets him as per military protocol and both men head out of the building and onto a jeep waiting nearby, the busy and bustling base just sprawled out in front of them. A few minutes later, they arrive at the tactical operations center and Steve is ushered into Captain Hamilton's office, that stands empty, at present, and the Ensign excuses himself. He stands about, feeling uneasy at the time all this is taking, nervous about wanting to get right onto the mission at hand, as is typical of him. Suddenly, a man in his late fifties enters the room, quickly eyeing him and moving towards his desk, and Steve salutes his superior officer.

\- "Captain Hamilton, Sir, Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett reporting for reserve duty, Sir!"

Captain Hamilton throws him an amused smile and motions for Steve to sit, saying:

\- "Come now, Lieutenant Commander, we both know there's no reserve duty here. If there was, it would be cruel to bring you all the way around the world for it, especially in the absence of a ship. At ease", he concludes, still amused.

Steve smiles back at his superior officer, relaxing a little bit and thinking that a congenial superior will be much easier to handle than a stern one, considering what he's come here to do. Captain Hamilton continues:

\- "Commander, this base is now the second largest airfield in Afghanistan, and it is a joint operation between the United States and NATO countries. As a remote assignment in a battle zone, the only people here are military personnel and contract employees who support Operation 'Enduring Freedom'. The ISAF uses the base for humanitarian flights, training and medical flights and the Air Expeditionary Advisory Group is located here for the purpose of supporting NATO training missions and training the Afghan Air Force to be in a position to take over the base. Furthermore, the CIA uses this base for surveillance missions all over Iran and Afghanistan, and there's even a rumour that they may have run surveillance missions over Western Afghanistan with the help of drones. However, as is the norm with the Agency, we'll never know", Captain Hamilton continues, amused.

The mention of the CIA makes Steve immediately think of Catherine, heart beating faster in his chest. But Captain Hamilton is on a roll with the introductory information about the base he's responsible for, and Steve manages to bring his attention back to the task at hand, shoving painful, but very recent thoughts and images of his ex- to the back of his mind.

\- "The nearest town is seven miles away, at Sabzwar City, but I don't expect you'll have much time to explore the area in the few short days you're going to be around. Due to safety concerns, no one is allowed to live off base and anytime personnel are outside of their living quarters they must be armed, except when doing physical fitness training or showering. You will be assigned a weapon as soon as you leave my office. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant Commander? At all times."

\- "Of course, Sir. I brought my own SIG, though."

\- "Good. But I was talking about a rifle. More fire power, if you get my drift… Ensign Roberts will take you to your sleeping quarters so you can clean up and you can meet me back here at 1200 hours."

Steve is yearning to get started, but doesn't dare contradict his superior officer, so he sighs resignedly and gets up, rearing to get the formalities out of the way as soon as he can. He salutes Captain Hamilton again and immediately spots the Ensign from before on his way out, waiting for him. He signals for the man to walk ahead of him and lead the way to the armoury and then his living quarters.

At exactly 1155 hours, Steve is back, now in fatigues and suitably armed, and is told to wait for Captain Hamilton outside his office. When he finally appears round a corner, 10 minutes later, he's being followed by two obviously non-military men, who are then ushered into his superior's office, along with him. Captain Hamilton introduces the men and motions for all to sit down, so they can start the meeting.

\- "Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarret, Navy SEAL. This is Officer Morrison", he says, motioning to the older of the two men, "and this is Officer Briars. They are CIA."

At Steve's slightly surprised look, Captain Hamilton explains:

\- "The CIA have been looking for Al-Nazri and his associates for over a year. When I was told a Navy SEAL would be coming over with new information and on a mission to capture him, I was given permission to join both our forces to try and flush them all out. They are a dangerous destabilizing force in the region and everyone would sleep much sounder at night if they were to be neutralized."

\- "Sir, may I speak freely?" Steve asks, fidgety, now becoming annoyed at the prospect of entering on a capture mission with the CIA. "No disrespect meant, but I asked the Navy's permission to come to Shindand to try to capture Al-Nazri. I didn't request the CIA's cooperation simply due to the fact that I hadn't meant to use it", he concludes, thinking back to when the Agency had tried to recruit him to join the highly secretive and elite Special Operations Group and he had refused the invitation, never more sure of anything in his life.

\- "Lieutenant Commander, in my world, if there's help available, we use it. I don't take the lives of my men lightly and I would be ecstatic if you came back unharmed, especially since the Governor of Hawai'i tells me you're doing a stellar job with his taskforce, there. So, if the CIA's offer of help means I am a step closer to achieving that goal, then you are going to accept their help, and they, yours. Besides, you have no working knowledge of this terrain, insurgent hotspots or even your way around. It would be madness to let you go alone, without tactical help. So, instead of spending time getting you up to speed with all that info, it's infinitely easier to simply have someone go with you, who does. Don't you think so?" Captain Hamilton asks, looking pointedly at Steve.

Defeated by his superior officer, all that's left for Steve is to agree, avoiding getting on the bad side of the only man whom he depends on, out here.

\- "Don't worry, Lieutenant Commander", the CIA officer in charge states, nonchalantly. "Our agent on the ground is very experienced in this particular warzone and you'll be very well taken care of", he finishes, and Steve could swear he detects a smirk. "You'll meet after lunch, our foray into town this morning ran a bit longer than expected. We came ahead, due to our meeting. Shall we say 1430 hours, East building, my office? The Ensign will take you there."

Steve nods his understanding. Both CIA Officers rise, shaking hands with him and his superior. After they leave, Captain Hamilton turns to Steve:

\- "I'm sorry, Commander, but this is an instance where we really can use their help. They are far more experienced in tracking down and capturing enemy combatants than we are, I'm sorry to say, and I want you gone as soon as possible. Consider it… a synergetic endeavor", Captain Hamilton says, smiling. "Now, as I said before, please do not venture outside without your weapon and do not hesitate to shoot if you find yourself in a dangerous situation. Your quarters have both a private lavatory and shower, so you won't need to be out in the open for those. But any other instances, always be aware of your surroundings. Anything you need, you know where my office is. I wish you the best of luck and we'll see each other every day, when possible, for debriefing."

He extends his hand to Steve who, surprised, shakes it and subsequently salutes his superior officer. He bids farewell to Captain Hamilton and exits his office, pissed off at the "help" he's been forced to accept. Ensign Roberts is waiting for him outside the office and he motions for him to start walking to wherever he's due next. As they reach the outside of the office building, Ensign Roberts turns to Steve and says, standing at attention:

\- "Sir, it's lunch time. Would you like to head over to the mess hall?"

\- "How far away is it?" Steve asks, wondering if the walk will be long.

\- "It's just across, on that big building, Sir. You can't miss it."

Steve smiles to himself and decides to let the young Ensign go have his lunch. He must have friends waiting for him.

\- "Then please go have lunch, Ensign. I'll be fine, don't worry about me. After lunch, though, I have a 1430 hour appointment in the East building… how far away is it?"

\- "It's just behind us, Sir. You may walk through this building towards the back, on the ground floor, and the East building is just across the street. The CIA offices are usually on the second floor."

Steve shows his surprise to the Ensign for knowing he was talking with the Agency, but he just smiles and says, calmly:

\- "We all know each other, Sir. In the end, we are all working for the same purpose and we must help each other. They've been instrumental in saving the lives of a few of my comrades, of late. So I have nothing against them", Ensign Roberts says, and Steve is starting to like him. And he is right, after all.

After bidding him farewell, Steve heads for the Mess Hall in hopes of putting his thoughts into order. Truth is, he's still pissed off at having been robbed of his mission and, despite understanding that it would be suicide trying to go at it alone, he wishes there had been some army personnel that he could've shadowed while looking for Al-Nazri. As it stands, though, there's nothing he can do. He pulls out his sat phone and dials Danny, who picks up on the third ring.

\- "Steve! Are you OK?"

\- "Yes, Danny, I'm fine. Everything's fine, on my end. How are things over there?"

\- "Fine, Steven, we're not the ones who voluntarily travelled to a war zone!" Danny says, annoyance finally seeping through.

\- "Danny, please understand, I know I didn't give you a lot of time to rant at my decision…"

Danny interrupts his sentence angrily.

\- "Rant? Rant, you say? Oh, you are an ass! First of all, I don't rant, Steven. Second, you could've listened to the concerns of the people who love you. You could've passed on the information to whomever is there, in the field, and they could've looked for Al-Nazri and his associates", Danny pauses.

\- "Danny, how many times have we had this conversation? I'm not the kind of man to just sit by and let others do my job, you know that!"

\- "No, no, you go in like a tank and railroad everything and everyone in order to get to your goal! But sometimes, Steven, sometimes… you could be less of an alpha male SEAL tomahawk one-track minded animal… and listen to other people!"

\- "Danny, I'm sorry. I really am. But I had to do this. I had to see this through. Seriously, you understand, right?" Steve says, genuinely sorry for not being able to make his partner more amenable to his argument.

\- "You know what, I should know you already. And I don't want to get mad at you, when you're millions of miles away, taking half my liver for a spin and I don't know if you're going to come back in one piece. Geez, Steve, look what you've got me thinking!"

\- "Danny, I promise I'll be extremely careful. As it is, I just got some unexpected help that I neither asked for, nor wanted..."

\- "No, don't tell me, you've been forced to accept help? So you won't be able to pull a 'Rambo: First Blood' thing over there?" Danny says, laughing.

\- "Funny. Real funny, Danno."

\- "But seriously, Steve, when are you coming back?"

\- "I have no idea, Danny. I have a meeting with the Agency this afternoon, so I guess they'll give me all their Intel then. Well, the Intel they want to give me, that is. I don't foresee this as being either easy or quick", Steve says, sighing, crossing the street to avoid the inclement freezing cold.

\- "Wait… the Agency, as in… the CIA?" Danny says, genuinely surprised.

\- "Yeah, they work out of this base, too. Captain Hamilton contacted them after my request for cooperation and I'll be shadowing one of their agents. I hate it."

\- "Of course you do, buddy, of course you do!" Danny says, mocking Steve. "But listen, just make sure you use their knowledge and expertise to help you capture the guys and return home quickly. After all, they must know what they're doing…"

\- "Yeah, Danny, sure they do. I just wish I didn't have to!" Steve says, entering the mess hall. For a few moments, his attention is diverted from the call as he takes in the sheer size of the cafeteria and all the different American restaurants available to personnel. Somehow, they make him feel more at home, more comforted. "Listen, I have to go. I'll keep you guys posted. Give my best to the team. I'll speak to you tomorrow, OK?"

\- "Before you go…"

\- "Yes, Danny?"

\- "Who will you be working with? Do you know?"

Steve sighs, not in the least bit surprised his friend's mind went there, just as his did. But he's not willing to acknowledge that to Danny, when there are so many other things he must keep a watchful eye on, not least of which, his own safety. He decides to deflect Danny's inference and play the dumb card.

\- "Well, Danny, I'm sure you know that I don't really know that many CIA agents, right? So no, I was told the agent was in town and that we'll be meeting after lunch. We'll see", Steve finishes, carefully selecting his words to shut his partner up. Besides, what are the odds?

Danny nods on his end, satisfied for now, and decides to let it go.

\- "OK, buddy, you have fun! Don't forget to call mommy after curfew, OK?"

\- "You're a regular Eddie Murphy, you are. Bye, Danny. Talk to you later."

\- "Bye Steve, stay safe, buddy. Grace sends her love. She's already organizing a party for your return, so don't you go disappointing her, you hear?"

\- "Sure, Danno. Send her my love too. Bye."

As he disconnects the call, Steve looks ahead trying to decide where to get lunch. For a moment, he wishes he was sitting down on a wooden table right next to Kamekona's food truck, under the wonderful Hawaiian sun, drinking Brazilian coconut water and eating shrimp with his Ohana. Dismissing these thoughts from his mind, he moves forward to join the line queuing for lunch at the cafeteria, suddenly assaulted by memories of MREs and actually missing one. His mind drifts back to an evening on O'ahu, when Catherine had made fun of him for preferring an MRE to her grandmother's ragu and had even taunted him with fulfilling a supposed fantasy of his by dressing in her cammos. He laughs to himself, looking away from the line in front of him, until his eyes land on a table a few feet away. His breath suddenly catches in his throat and Steve can't help looking the woman, sitting with her back to him, up and down. Slender, very dark brown hair in a bun, blue fatigues, talking animatedly with her two lunch companions. Steve freezes, enthralled by her figure, each passing second surer that he recognizes her and her mannerisms, but unable to move from his current position. After a few seconds, the person standing behind him urges him forward and all Steve can do is break away from the line, still fixated on the woman's form. When she tilts her head to listen to something someone sitting next to her is whispering, Steve can clearly see part of a blue star tattooed on the back of the woman's neck, outlined in black. His heart starts racing and he's thrown for a loop, frozen in time for several seconds while trying to control his thoughts. Suddenly, Officer Morrison's smirk becomes plainly clear. He must know, after all this is the CIA and his love affair with Lieutenant Catherine Rollins hadn't exactly been a flight of fancy or a two-day affair. He really can't put his finger on what makes him more nervous: the thought of seeing her so soon after Montana, the thought of working together with her again or the realization of just how dangerous her job really is.

Overwhelmed by memories of days gone by, Steve heads for the door and exits the mess hall, feeling the need to run, quickly. Breathing deeply, he is immediately attacked by the freezing cold, and decides to head back to his quarters until the time of his meeting with, he is now sure, 'Officer' Catherine Rollins. His emotions are all over the place and before he realises, he is now standing at the door to his sleeping quarters. There's still an hour to kill before his meeting, so Steve decides to lie down and try to get some rest. He knows he needs to get a grip on his emotions if working with Catherine is going to work out, but not only that – if there's any chance that both of them manage to leave their encounter in the same balanced emotional state they were both left in, after Catherine had left Montana. Steve lies down in his surprisingly comfortable bed, dropping his riffle by his side, on the floor. He thinks of calling Danny again, but decides against it, since his partner's warnings and general dislike for the situation would be epic and would take at least 10 minutes he'd much rather employ resting. Setting the alarm clock on his wristwatch for 10 minutes before he's due to be at the East building, Steve settles down to try and get some sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

At the arranged time, he's standing just outside Officer Morrison's office, poised to knock, when he hears an unmistakable laughter coming from inside. Steve breathes deeply, to calm himself down and get his emotions in check and knocks. Upon getting an "enter!" he opens the door and heads inside.

There are three people in the office: Morrison, another man Steve has never seen before and… Catherine. He sees her sitting down on a sofa to the left of Morrison's desk through the corner of his eye, but his first instinct is to greet the man he supposedly knows and is responsible for this meeting. Morrison shakes Steve's hand, since they are not in a military setting and then turns him halfway to his left to introduce the two other people.

\- "Lieutenant Commander, let me introduce you. This is Officer Carter", he says, motioning towards the man who has gotten up, in the meantime. "And this is Lieutenant Rollins, but I believe you two already know each other?" he deadpans, smirking.

Starting to feel a real dislike for Officer Morrison, and after greeting the other man, Steve looks at him sideways, not amused, while silently extending his hand to hold Catherine's. He lingers on the man's face for a moment longer and, when he turns to properly greet Catherine, she is also smirking knowingly at him, and this gesture on her part manages to defuse the situation. She squeezes his hand tight, holding it, not a word spoken between them.

If Morrison wanted a reaction out of these two, he's very disappointed, as both Catherine and Steve sit down on the couch, after Officer Carter walks past them and bids his goodbyes, giving Catherine a hug. An uncomfortable silence follows, and both Catherine and Steve look attentively at Morrison to start the meeting. Once he realises he's not going to get any other reaction from the two people sitting across from him, he sits back and clears his throat.

\- "Well, Commander McGarrett, given that you already know the person you'll be working with, we need to establish some ground rules and debrief you on what happened in Hawai'i and what you know. Regarding the rules, it's like any other war zone you've ever been in and I'm sure there's nothing I can teach you that you don't already know. However, be aware: the insurgents, here, are always looking for an excuse to mount deadly incursions. Recently, there have been several high-profile attacks and civilian casualties are higher now than they've ever been, more due to allied forces and the Afghan army, than due to the Taliban. The Afghan army is also known to bribe and extort the citizens to levels never before seen and not practiced by the Taliban, so all this makes for an explosive situation. You need to keep this in mind at all times and protect yourself accordingly – and my officer. She will do the same for you" he finishes, still leering, provocative, looking for a reaction. When he again gets none, apart from a nod, he continues.

\- "Well, Commander, shall we move to the command center and you can fill us in on what exactly happened on O'ahu?" Morrison says, getting up from his desk.

\- "Of course", is all Steve says, getting up and following Catherine out the door.

The CIA command center is an impressive room, about 1000 square feet full of screens, worktables much like the one he has back on O'ahu and personnel, busy tracking insurgent activity and movement throughout the Province. As Officer Hamilton reaches a work table, he turns to Steve and asks him to fill them in on what happened, in detail.

\- "On January 18th, three bombs simultaneously blew up in three strategic locations on the island: the airport, the water purifying plant and a Navy weapons depot. We had caught some chatter, on the grapevine, about something big about to happen, but were unable to find out what. Thirteen people died and we've been drinking water from bottles and having it publicly distributed for a week, now. Thankfully, the airport terminal that was destroyed was a domestic one, so at least there, they were not effective. The depot had just been decommissioned, so there were no weapons on the premises, but they didn't know that. They wanted us on total lockdown, but we believe that the attack was poorly planned, as they could've inflicted far more damage than they did. What the Five-0 taskforce was able to find out was that this man", he points to the screen where a clear image of the terrorist was displayed, "is the mastermind behind the attacks. When his enforcer, Ahmed Zahed, found himself cornered, he got on a plane and fled. He disguised himself as a tourist, after securing a false ID and passport and disappeared through the cracks. Due to the whole situation, customs and border patrol didn't spot him in time and he disappeared, only to be seen again in Japan, then Lahore. We were able to find one thing, though – his destination. Afghanistan. He travelled alone, after killing his accomplices on the island, mainly local perps. It makes a lot of sense that he would've fled to his native land, what better place to hide?"

\- "I see. So your mission, here, is to capture this man?"

\- "Not only that. I want to capture him, but I need to know if there are any other splinter cells planning any other attacks on US soil, namely Hawai'i."

\- "That is our mission, Lieutenant Commander. And it's going to take time, unfortunately, more time than I am told you have. Can we settle, for now, on the capture of this man?" Morrison says, pointing at the image on the screen. "You will have first crack at him to try and break him and extract any and all information you may use."

\- "That would be a great start, thank you, yes", Steve says, genuinely relieved that he is being put in the center of this op, at least.

\- "Well, then, now let me tell you what we know. Lieutenant Rollins?" the man says, addressing Catherine.

A slight pang of remembrance hits Steve, as he takes in the situation: he's in a CIA operation room, ready to be briefed by Catherine. Not what he expected this morning, when he got off that plane.

\- "We've been tracking down Al-Nazri and his crew for months, now. We knew he was trying to get his splinter cell onto US soil for some attacks, but were unable to find out in time, apparently", she says, looking at Steve with sadness. "He comes from a town 10 miles away, quite remote and inaccessible, known for its resistance to foreign invasion. He is very well connected, we think that he may quickly be going up the ranks, and this attack will surely help his cause. He's ruthless, bloody and doesn't take prisoners. He's responsible, that we know of, for the death of 23 military personnel here on the base and 9 civilian contractors. He doesn't do it himself, of course. He trains children near the border, kidnaps them from their homes, and then threatens to kill their entire families if they do not carry out these attacks," Catherine goes on, thinking of Najib. "Usually, they are suicide bombings. The population both hate and fear him. And he's been running in the shadows for months, we've been unable to pinpoint his location and capture him ever since we became aware of his presence here."

\- "How long has it been?" Steve asks, genuinely curious.

\- "We believe he rose to prominence around 2 years ago, so not that long. At the rate that allied forces kill them, they always seem to have more and more leaders in the works", Catherine says, pensive. "Anyway, our best bet to try and flush him out is around his village. I believe he must've come back to gather support and hide from us. He'll need some time to get back on his feet. Now is the time to strike, when he's all over the place."

\- "I agree", Steve says, looking at the map on the screen that Catherine had put up. "What kind of manpower do we have here?"

\- "For the moment, Lieutenant Commander, it'll be just you two and an army reconnaissance squad, who volunteered for this mission", Morrison informs him.

\- "Let's get going then", Steve says, extracting his pen from the computer mainframe, now impatient, eliciting a knowing smile from Catherine. "What's the plan?"

\- "Al-Nazri comes from Khayfan, a town south of here, and also south of the Harut river, which we'll have to cross. We've had our lookouts on maximum alert ever since you let us know you were coming, but so far, no word. We are going to take the squad and pretend that we are on a peacekeeping mission. That way we'll be able to see if all is calm, or if there is any abnormal movement, while at the same time touching base with our informants on the ground", Catherine says, looking at Steve.

\- "Seems like a good plan", Steve says. "Can't wait to get my hands on that son of a bitch", he mutters to himself, getting serious gain.


	26. Chapter 26

After the briefing is over and Officer Morrison bids his goodbyes, leaving for another meeting, Catherine exits the workroom, motioning for Steve to follow her. They don't exchange another glance or word while they cross paths with several Agents that politely greet Catherine, as they go about their business, and Steve senses this is strategic on her part. When she reaches the lobby of the building, and instead of stopping, Catherine heads outside and into another building nearby, almost deserted at this hour. The road serves merely as a means of going from point A to point B, and no one dares linger for a moment longer than needed. The feeble sun is doing its best to melt their freezing bodies, but Steve can't control the occasional shiver that courses through him.

Steve follows Catherine without asking a single question and is happy at the sight greeting him: a warm, cozy, dimly lit rec room, empty at present. Catherine turns to Steve and smiles openly, as he looks at her, taking in her features. Beautiful as ever, he thinks. He hugs her tight, comforted by her warm body, resting his chin on her shoulder, a gesture so typical of him. Closing his eyes, her tell-tale scent brings out recent memories, prompting him to say, amused: "finally, a proper welcome", getting a hearty laugh from her. After a few seconds, they disentangle themselves from the hug and simply stare at each other, a complicit smile on their lips. Catherine's the first one to speak.

\- "Steve, why have you come?"

\- "Cath, you know I was incapable of letting this man escape and do nothing," Steve says, her old moniker flowing freely from his mouth, feeling just right.

\- "Come on, you know very well that you could've sent this info to the Navy here and they would've liaised with us! You didn't have to come…"

\- "So… this is what you do now, is it?" Steve says, genuinely curious but unable to hide the tinge of criticism wrapped up in concern, lacing his voice.

\- "Not really, no… but when the request came in from the DOD and Morrison knew I was going to be here for a fortnight, he asked me to lend assistance", Catherine tells Steve, letting his jab go.

\- "He's an idiot. Trying to get a reaction out of us like that…"

\- "He's not so bad, once you get to know him, really… he just thinks he's irresistible, that's all", Catherine says, laughing.

\- "Is that code for 'he doesn't understand why you haven't fallen at his feet yet?'" Steve says, half joking.

\- "Something like that, yes", Catherine concludes, amused. "Poor guy, he keeps trying to dump his irresistible charm on me…" she continues, smiling at Steve and, as he laughs at her, laughing with him. "I couldn't believe it when I heard that Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett was the SEAL who had requested assistance."

\- "Well, you did tell me 'till we meet again', didn't you?"

-"Yeah, well, between deaths and CIA missions, I'm not sure which is best…" Catherine says, sad, pensive look marring her features. "Where are you staying?"

\- "Barracks D, building 301. It's a five minute walk from here."

\- "I know, my quarters are there too. Same building. I guess they must've bundled you with CIA staff, since we're here to help each other. Navy personnel tends to be placed in Barracks C", she says, smiling at Steve, clearly happy to see him again.

\- "I'm glad you're here, Cath. Real glad."

\- "Me too, Steve. At least I can try to control that Captain America streak of yours," she says, openly laughing, dodging his playful stab at her ribs. "I'm sure Danny will thank me, in the end. How is he, by the way? Grace? How is everyone else?"

\- "The Ohana, you can say it, Cath," Steve says, looking at her, trying to get a sense of her emotions, but failing. "They're great, despite everything that's happened."

Ignoring him, she carries on. She's in no mood to go into the dead and injured, right this minute. She's far too happy for that.

\- "Listen, have you had lunch?"

\- "I have a confession to make…" Steve says, sheepishly. "I went to the mess hall and was standing in line, but then I saw you from a distance and I don't know, I guess it kind of threw me… I left and went back to my quarters."

Catherine smiles at him, ignoring the veiled hint. She gets up, holds his hand and says:

\- "Come on, I know a place. It's probably deserted right now and we can catch up. We have at least 2 hours to kill until it's safe to go to town."

Suddenly, Steve is a heck of a lot less annoyed at the wait.


	27. Chapter 27

As she leads him back towards the mess hall, Steve starts to feel really hungry. He realises leaving, before, was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn't help himself – he was not ready to face her, then. He's not really sure he's ready to face her now, but time's up, and there are no more distractions to fall back upon. Catherine takes Steve to a KFC almost exactly the same as so many he's been in before, but with a decidedly Arab flavour in the menu and décor. He couldn't care less, it'll do. They order their food and go sit at a sturdy table in a badly lit corner, across from a large window that gives out to the dusty and empty street. Again, it's Catherine's turn to open the hostilities and she's not shy about it.

\- "So, tell me, how have you been, since Montana?"

\- "Perfect," Steve says, eyeing her attentively, trying to dismiss her real question. But she's having none of it, now that they are away from prying eyes and ears.

\- "Steve… come on. Tell me. If nothing else, your mental status is important for this mission", she says, lightly smiling, trying to keep her request casual.

\- "Is that the CIA asking, or my friend Catherine?" Steve retorts, and she's not sure if he's taking it lightly or getting annoyed at her prodding.

\- "Your very good friend Catherine", she assures him again, firmly.

\- "What, don't tell me the Spy-I-A doesn't have access to such mundane information…?" and again, he seems serious.

\- "Fine, I give up", Catherine says, exhaling amusedly and smiling. "Let's bypass information about you. How's Mary? You never told me how she was doing, when we were in Montana?"

\- "To answer your question, I'm fine. I've made peace with Joe's passing. I think having had the chance to avenge his death helped a lot", Steve tells her, calmly. "I'm sorry, it's still a touchy subject that I don't share with a lot of people."

\- "I'm not a lot of people, now, am I?" she says, smiling.

\- "No, you certainly are not", Steve exhales, looking her straight in the eye. "You sure aren't."

He can tell Catherine is embarrassed at his intense look and decides to change the subject.

\- "Mary's fine, still living in L.A., raising Joan who is now 6, can you believe it?"

\- "Oh, my God! Six? Time goes by so quickly!"

\- "Yeah… time's a harsh mistress. And one day you wake up and don't know what you did with it. Don't know what it is that you have achieved," and now, he's mostly talking to himself, eyes distant.

\- "Steve… stop it with the negativity, will you? You of all people, who have achieved so much!"

\- "I'm so wistful about so many things these days, Cath… sort of like needing to be remembered why I do the job, you know? At some point, we start to question ourselves, is it all worth it? You know, giving up our personal lives, health, family time…" He then smiles sweetly, reminiscing. "When I saw you at the mess, today, I was just thinking about an evening at home when you sarcastically offered to put on your cammos…"

\- "I remember", she says, amused. "Preferring MREs to my Grandmother's ragu! The nerve!" she says, laughing.

\- "I was so happy, then, and didn't even realise it… Unfortunately, we never did get to play out the foxhole fantasy, now did we?" he says, amused, smiling at her.

\- "Steve, what's gotten into you?"

\- "What do you mean?"

\- "Are you taking stock of your life, or something? I'm getting a very nostalgic vibe from you," Catherine says, slightly alarmed, looking him straight in the eye and lowering her voice, reaching for his hand in a show of support.

Her electrifying touch is so sudden, Steve's startled by it, making him pull his hand away discreetly, busying himself with a chicken drumstick. He's suddenly struck by how much he still wants this woman in the biblical sense, and her nearness is unsettling. The action does not escape Catherine's notice and she sighs, sad that their friendship hasn't managed to resume its original status, ignorant of what is going on. She smiles awkwardly and removes her hand from the table too, as if burned, not knowing what to do with it and finally deciding on her lap. As silence descends upon them, Catherine decides it's time to get their heads back on the mission ahead and leave the personal stuff for later. There's always a chance that someone may not come back alive, and she'll be damned if it'll be him. She knows she simply wouldn't be able to live through it.

\- "OK, let's agree on a strategy for our foray into town. How do you want to play it?"

\- "You tell me, you know the way of the land around here, I don't. Do you have informants, people we can get intel from?" Steve says, reclining in his sofa and closing his eyes, thoughts of Hawai'i now forgotten.

\- "Yes, though in doing it, they risk being murdered by the Taliban. So we go in, find out about living conditions, school attendances, new land mines, complaints…"

\- "Sort of a covert reconnaissance mission, under the guise of social welfare."

\- "Exactly," Catherine smiles. "And then we ask the villagers the questions we want to know. So that's how we'll play it today. We should get going, they all go indoors after around 1700 hours, because the cold here can really freeze you solid. That's the best time to catch up with them."

\- "When in Rome…", Steve says, amused again, mind back on the mission.


	28. Chapter 28

Precisely an hour later, Steve and Catherine are on a military vehicle headed into town, accompanied by the army reconnaissance squad Agent Morrison had spoken of. Eager to hide any personal attachment to each other, they both behave as they would in their Navy days – no looks, no side glances, no big smiles, no touching, just business. Steve's on edge, fully aware of how dangerous their foray into the village may turn out to be. Now that he seems to have finally admitted to himself that, maybe, Catherine is not the evil witch who gratuitously broke his heart for her own selfish reasons, and after having taken some time, though not all he should have, to think about his own shortcomings, he wants to gather the courage to sit her down and talk about what happened in the past. That is as far as his thoughts have taken him, when he starts to spot villagers on the road, headed into town.

A caravan of camels carrying tents and household items moves slowly, but steadily, across the dry and barren road - what little is left of it - filled with craters and holes, from landmines. The nomads that own them are headed South, in search of better grazing pastures for their animals. Along the roadside, fields of wheat, rice, and vegetables can be seen, with the women tending the crops and carrying water. An Afghan boy is herding a flock of sheep on the other side of the road.

Twenty minutes into their ride, they come to the Harut river bridge and, from Steve's calculations, they are about five minutes away from town. As he looks outside to assess any threats, he can see some villagers going about their business, dressed in typical Afghan _peraahan tunbaan (1)__, _with _lungee (2)_ firmly attached to their heads. Some women can also be seen, children attached to their hips, dressed in their sad and colourless _tunbaan (3)_ and covered with hijabs, a few totally covered with their burqas, who stop and look at the military vehicle in surprise. A child of about twelve is retrieving water from a well. Steve can't help but make a parallel between the life he leads and the lives of these people, and wonder who's happier.

Sitting on a dusty rug beside their lorries, at the edge of Khayfan, a group of middle-aged drivers are engaged in a lively discussion; leaning forward in a black _kurta4_, one of them is waving his arms about wildly, probably trying to sell the group something and negotiating the price. They are apparently undisturbed by the military convoy and as the dust settles, they continue to talk animatedly.

After passing a military checkpoint, they reach the village, and Steve can finally look around. Bombed-out stone buildings and homes are everywhere, perched on the hilltops. At the center of Khayfan is a single dirt road, lined with small wooden stalls - the market. Only the most basic goods look to be available, a few fruit stands and a butcher shop with slabs of fly-covered meat hanging in the open air. Another stall sells everything else that the modern man might need, except… there are no modern men here. Only survivors. Steve suspects there is no electricity as well, or even running water. Apart from the old and decrepit lorries on the road from before, there are no cars in sight, so he surmises that villagers walk almost everywhere, using the few donkeys around to carry the heavy loads, when needed. A simple, poor existence, worsened by the harsh weather conditions, this time of year, and the Taliban.

The soldiers disband and, holding their rifles to their chest, go in search of the villagers they know. A few minutes later, one of them comes out of one of the stone buildings and discreetly calls out to Catherine and Steve. When they reach him, he mentions that the owner of the house has some information for them on the man they seek, but they must be discrete in the extreme. Steve nods, removes a bundle of cloth from his bag and enters the house, followed by Catherine. The soldier goes in after them, unsure if the two people they were ordered to shadow today can even speak the language.

The small room has a wood stove in one corner, clearly the only source of heat in the small house. A wall torch illuminates them, casting shadows in between the flickering light, making Catherine feel ill at ease. Electricity is a very expensive commodity here, and it must not be easy or affordable to find fuel for a generator, rendering it useless to most homes. Sitting cross-legged on the beautifully carpeted floor, the man starts by offering them chai, beckoning them to sit down by his side. Catherine hesitates, adjusting her head cover, not wanting to offend local custom, but he smiles warmly at her and extends his hand, indicating the floor next to him. She sits down a few feet away from the man and from Steve, against a wall, alert to any change of circumstances. Suddenly, she can hear giggles and when she follows the sound, Catherine spots three women behind a curtain, scanning the room with enormous curiosity. Their heads are covered, but not their eyes, lively, amused, friendly. Suddenly, Catherine thinks that she might've struck up a friendly relationship with these women, which might make them open up to her, if she were to stay longer in the area. As it is, the man sitting in the living room floor starts to speak, and all three women disappear immediately from behind the curtain.

The man tries to communicate with Steve, whose Pashto isn't good, so when the soldier standing at the door moves to translate, Catherine signals to him to stay put. She greets the man with respect, briefly looking him in the eye, placing her right hand over her heart and saying "Salam Alaikum. We thank you for welcoming us to your home. We are aware that you are in danger simply from talking to us. My name is Catherine, this is Steve."

The man's face immediately shows his surprise. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined that he would be communicating with the weaker sex. But the woman speaks good Pashto and he wants to get this over and done with, so he answers her.

\- "Your man over there tells me you need help finding Al-Nazri," he says, nodding in the direction of the soldier, who has resumed his previous position. "You are aware of how dangerous he is? And difficult to find?"

\- "Yes, we are. But we really must find him. He needs to answer a few questions about an incident in the USA."

\- "What did he do?" the man counters, weary of her reply.

\- "I'm sorry, we are not…"

Suddenly, Steve finds his voice, low and steady. "Tell him, Lieutenant. Maybe it'll help."

Catherine nods, looking at Steve. "He planted a few bombs and killed thirteen innocent people. We need to bring him to justice."

The man sighs, seemingly deep in thought, and turns to Steve. "You are angry."

\- "Very. I want him." There is no mistaking Steve's facial expression. If the man is going to trust them, they may as well trust him, too.

Turning to Catherine again, the Afghan man serves her some more chai, smiling at her, urging her to drink it. "He is a very bad man. He's responsible for the deaths of many people in the villages around Khayfan. Children, too."

\- "We know, and we're very sorry for that," she says, looking down, imagining how hard it must be for David to fight Goliath here. "Maybe we can help."

\- "Pray Allah you can," he goes on, and suddenly looks at her with a faint smile in his face. "He showed up in the village yesterday. He has many friends and allies who hide him and provide shelter. I heard a rumour that he needed money to cross over into Pakistan, to go into hiding. His friends are busy with that."

\- "Who are his friends? Catherine asks, afraid of interrupting the man's monologue.

\- "Al-Qaeda. They know the terrain here very well, they have money, weapons and vehicles. Everything we do not," he finishes, with a sad look. "But you don't want to hear that, right? There's a trail that heads into the mountain, I think that's where they went. On the other side, they'll have people to help them cross over, and they'll vanish. It takes three days to reach the other side of the mountain, by foot. But you can go around and capture them when they come out the other side."

\- "Where exactly is this exit? I'm guessing it's not exactly visible for all to see?"

\- "It's called the 'Infidel's Pass," he says, getting up and moving to the side of the small stove. He removes a piece of paper from a drawer and sits back down, looking to Steve, handing him the map. "There, see," he says, eagerly, pointing to a hollow in the terrain, "this is the entrance to the Pass, on the other side. It'll take you a full day to reach it, by car. You start early tomorrow morning, tonight is too late. Dangerous and dark, you'd be spotted in no time, they'll have lookouts everywhere on these mountains." And with that, he gets up again, motioning to the exit.

Catherine and Steve get up and head for the exit, thanking the man for his help, praying silently that no harm will come to him for helping. Steve hands over the cloth he had brought and the man is visibly emotional, thanking him profusely. The women appear again, curious as to the exchange that went on between the Afghani man and the Americans. They wave to Catherine and disappear again into the small house, never exchanging a single glance with Steve.

In the military vehicle headed back to base, darkness descending upon them, the other soldiers relate what other tidbits of intel they were able to get from the other villagers they talked to, giving Steve an idea of the number of men and types of weapons Al-Nazri has at his disposal. By the time they get back to the base, it's dinner time and the soldiers salute the both of them, disappearing into the darkness immediately after. Steve sighs, starting to feel hungry, aware that he must report to Captain Hamilton, as agreed between the two. He drops Catherine off at the CIA building and heads for Captain Hamilton's office, feeling cold and tired, yearning to get the briefing over with. However, by the time he reaches his destination, the whole floor is steeped in darkness, and no one is about. Steve sighs, annoyed that he wasn't able to reach the man in time, aware that he won't be able to get an early start the next day. As it stands, there's nothing he can do about it, right now, so he goes in search of Catherine, eager to have some dinner and, maybe, a serious conversation.

* * *

1 shirt/pantsoutfit

2 turban

3 dress with loose-fitting pants underneath, that goes down to the ankles

4 shirt


	29. Chapter 29

After their meal, and as they exit the mess hall, Steve and Catherine head towards Barracks D. Cold and tired, all she wants, right now, is to have a shower and fall on her warm bed. Resting her sore muscles would be nice, sleep perfect – but she suspects either of those options will be hard commodities to come by. She rushes her steps and suddenly feels Steve's hand in hers, pulling her back. Stopping in her tracks, she looks back at him, surprise etched on her face. They are in an almost deserted area, and there is no one about at this hour of night. Catherine tugs Steve's arm, urging him not to stop, motioning with her head towards the Barracks, feeling the cold freeze her.

\- "Steve, come on, we can't stop in the middle of the road! Insurgents might come out of the shadows and we'll have a situation on our hands…"

\- "Cath, look…" he says, looking up. Her eyes follow his. "It's a beautiful night. Look at that big orange moon and those stars. Last time I saw a moon like that was at home," he continues, nostalgia invading him. He really wishes that right now, they could both be sitting on his Adirondack chairs, on his back yard, mere inches from the surf, listening to the waves and smelling the sea breeze, together.

Catherine smiles warmly at Steve, understanding why exactly he feels like this. She's been away from home, long term, for so long, that she hasn't felt longing or want for a particular place in many years. In fact, she suspects the last place she yearned for, is the same spot invading Steve's imagination right this minute. Her smile turns sad as she waits for him to conclude his train of thought, all the while supporting him with a squeeze of the hand.

\- "God, I miss home…," is all Steve can say, still looking up. Suddenly, he looks at Catherine and asks, surprised, "… how about you? Miss home?"

\- "I've been working for the CIA for so long that I don't even know where home is, anymore," she replies with sincerity, immediately chastising herself for being so honest, especially with him – after all, this topic is a minefield between them. Catherine stomps her feet on the ground, waving her body, and rubs her hands together to ward off the cold, not saying any more.

Steve turns to her, loving expression on his face, another first in many years, and lingers there, as if committing her to memory, cold forgotten. Growing serious, he decides to say what's on his mind.

\- "No, I meant home, HOME" he says, and fixates his eyes on her, never wavering. It's as though he's talking of a place beyond time, always present in their memories, to which she will naturally one day return, because she belongs to it - or the other way round.

Catherine's heart starts beating faster in her chest, and she feels her face flush and warm. It's a good thing night has fallen and they are in a dimly lit area, otherwise this might be embarrassing. Her only option, at this point, is to try and deflect his stare and she laughs, looking up to the stars again.

\- "Sure, I miss my parents, my brothers, I miss the States, my family of friends… but I guess when you do what I do for a living, you numb the pain by not thinking about them so often, it's kind of a defense mechanism," she concludes, now looking back at him, with an open, honest smile she hopes is enough to satisfy him.

But Steve is feeling nostalgic, after the day's events, and emboldened by the brightly shining moon, presses her for the answer to his real question.

\- "I wasn't talking about Washington, Cath. In fact, I try not to think about it much, or wherever else in the world you may be. When I think about you, all I do is worry about your safety and, since there's nothing I can do to check up on you or help you, it's pointless. So I don't do it often, only when I can't help my wandering mind."

If Catherine had thought that her previous answer would placate Steve, she was dead wrong. All it did was make him want to be clearer, and therefore more difficult to innocently dismiss. In the middle of a military airbase in Afghanistan, mid-op. Suddenly, Lynn comes to her mind and it's like a bucket of cold water thrown at her head. She remembers the blonde woman's demeanour and kindness, and suddenly, everything feels wrong about this situation. Including his nonchalant attitude.

\- "Steve, it's late and I am very tired. I need to catch some sleep, if tomorrow is anything like we suspect. Can we go, please?" she finishes, releasing his hand and starting to walk towards the barracks, quickening her pace.

Steve sighs dejectedly, heart sinking in his chest. He runs the short distance that separates them and pulls on her arm, almost stopping her.

\- "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Please. I just… miss having you in my life, Catherine, you were my best friend and then you just left. Without so much as an explanation," he says, and as she stops and looks at him, he can see tears running down her face.

\- "Steve, don't make the mistake of thinking I don't get homesick – whatever home we're talking about", she says, serious, looking him in the eye. "I just think there's nothing to be gained from going back there. We both moved on", Catherine says, defeated, shoulders sagging, head down, not moving from where she's standing, in the middle of the dirt track. "There's an unspoken agreement between us that's served us well till now. Can we stick to it, please?"

Steve reaches a hand and strokes her cheek, ready to wipe away the tears that started to pour, his own heart breaking at hearing her acknowledge that she does indeed miss their former home together, and hopefully, their life. When she doesn't move to stop him, Steve comes closer and envelops her in a hug. They stay like that for a few seconds that feel, to her, like hours, both a warming caress and a dangerously slippery slope. As Steve loosens his embrace, he looks her in the eyes again and smiles, moving 180 degrees and holding her by the waist, as he propels them towards their sleeping quarters. Catherine is unable to say anything when Steve delivers her to her room door, kisses her on the cheek again and bids her goodnight. She just stands there like a statue, unable to process what just happened, overwhelmed by her emotions. She knows she can kiss any chance of sleep goodbye, tonight.


	30. Chapter 30

After showering and getting into a t-shirt and cammo pants, Catherine lies down to try to get some rest, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. She's finding it hard to keep them under check, as is the case when she's in such close proximity to Steve, ever since Montana. She doesn't know how to react around him anymore, as any "normal" between them, as friends, has been blurred by recent events. Some of his reactions, of late, have been puzzling, further complicating their story, especially since he is not a free man, she thinks. And Steve is nothing if not a decent, honourable man.

While distracted by her thoughts, Catherine hears her mobile phone ping. She frowns lightly, wondering who could be trying to contact her on her personal phone, in the middle of nowhere, at this time of night. She huffs discontentedly, closing her eyes in annoyance, and turns her head away from the phone, as if trying to ignore the contact. A few seconds later, a second ping sparks her curiosity and she turns on her side, reaching for the phone and unlocking it. Her heart skips a beat when she realises the messages are coming from 10 yards away.

* * *

Sorry I made you cry.

Wasn't my intention.

11.23 pm

It actually makes my heart ache,

when you do.

11.24 pm

I know.

Don't worry about it.

11.25m

I DO worry about it.

I never want to make you cry.

11.26 pm

We hardly see each other anymore,

so not much chance of that… ;-)

11.28 pm

About that…

11.31 pm

Yeah?

11.32 pm

Tell me, what's the big pull,

with the 'Cocaine Import Agency'?

11.34 pm

Hahaha, where did you learn that one from,

Danny, as well?

11.35 pm

What if I did?

11.36 pm

Always Mr. Sarcastic…

11.37 pm

So…?

11.37 pm

They do a very, very important job, Steve.

If only people knew…

11.39 pm

I know. I know you do.

But… don't you think

you've contributed plenty?

11.41 pm

What are you talking about?

It's my job, and I really like my job.

11.43 pm

OK. Let me put this another way.

You ever think of stopping?

Leaving?

11.45 pm

Not something I usually think about.

This job… it's just about broken me in. ;-)

11.46 pm

It's a very dangerous job, Cath…

11.48 pm

I am aware of that, believe me.

I take precautions.

11.50 pm

Cath, come on, it's ME you're talking to,

not your parents!

I know very well that,

no matter how much care you take,

the nature of the job is inherently bad.

Just consider where we were, today!

11.53 pm

I guess, after a while doing it,

you become desensitized to those thoughts.

You have to, to be able to function,

otherwise you freeze mid-op and you're dead.

11.55 pm

Yeah, see, that's exactly the mental image

I try real hard to erase from my mind,

when I think of you.

11.57 pm

Aww… does that happen often?

11.58 pm

Much more than you think, Cath.

12.05 am

What is that? The thinking about me,

or the erasing of my image from your mind? ;-) ;-) ;-)

12.07 am

Mostly the first.

I tried the second,

time and again,

but didn't meet with much success.

You're ingrained there.

12.09 am

Sorry about that…

I'll try to stop popping up in your thoughts. :-)

12.17 am

Don't bother.

I've been trying harder and longer,

and haven't managed to.

But you never answered my question.

12.23 am

No I didn't, did I?

You know how people say that everything has a price?

That anything can be bought and sold, for the right price?

12.25 am

Yeah…

not sure I agree with that statement,

though.

12.26 am

Not 100%, of course, no,

but a fair percentage, yes.

12.28 am

So… all you have to do

is find out your own price?

12.29 am

Well, I wouldn't put it that way…

12.30 am

No, but you get my drift.

12.31 am

I myself don't know what it would take.

Maybe one day I'll wake up

and realise that I'm done with the CIA.

That it no longer makes sense, for me.

12.33 am

But… you're still a long way away from it,

is that what you're saying?

12.37 pm

I don't know…

you know how, in life, situations change?

12.39 am

Yeah. How much would your life

have to change

for you to decide to leave?

12.42 am

Quite a lot, I guess. Or, not that much at all. :-)

12.45 am

What do you mean?

12.45 am

It would depend on the offer.

12.47 am

Is that so?

12.48 am

Of another job, I mean…

if I were looking for one.

12.50 am

Right, of course.

12.52 am

You do realise we're lying 10 yards away from each other

and could be talking face to face?

12.56 am

What are you suggesting?

12.58 am

Nothing. I'm suggesting nothing.

I'm just saying we could save a lot

of satellite time and have this conversation

face to face, some other time.

I'm really tired.

1.00 am

* * *

Catherine stares at her screen, suddenly aware that this conversation has veered onto strange paths. After a few seconds of no further reply, she starts to fear that she won't hear from Steve anymore tonight. It's not as though she knows what's going through his mind, lately. Suddenly, a gentle knock at the door startles her, and realization hits. He's right outside her door. If she opens it, she'll be crossing a threshold she's been working really hard at maintaining, and that she's not sure she'll be able to come back from. It may forever ruin her relationship with this man, but she also knows that she isn't physically capable of leaving him on the other side. Catherine gets up from the metal bed, feeling nervous, sighs deeply and opens the door, shielding her body from onlookers with it, motioning for him to enter. She tries to keep a neutral face and hopes this may go down as a mere nighttime conversation between two friends who haven't seen each other in a while. However, a single look at the man in front of her tells her that Steve wants to continue the conversation they were having over the phone. She sighs again and goes back to bed, sitting down and covering her waist with the blanket. Steve sits down too, across from Catherine, at the foot of the bed, and leans back on his elbow, smiling.

"So… where were we?"

"Quickly falling into the rabbit hole", Catherine says, laughing and eyeing Steve. She knows this is a dangerous game they're playing, but they're in the middle of an air base with thousands of other people around.

"You do realise we were in a bedroom, much like this one, together and alone, only two weeks ago?" Steve says, amused.

"And here I was, just thinking I was underdressed to welcome male company into my quarters… glad to know I'm in no danger," she says, feeling an immense relief from her own words. Maybe she's reading all of this wrong.

"You're in far more danger than you imagine, Catherine," and he's no longer smiling. His look is so intense, she suddenly feels naked, and like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs.

"Wow, you get right down to business, huh?" she says, now annoyed, getting up and moving to the window. Steve stays put.

"Well, you know what they say, there's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm," Steve says, smiling, going from serious to playful again.

Catherine looks away from the window, directly at him, and the air suddenly becomes charged with electricity, sexual tension building up between them. She doesn't even bother calling him out on his cockiness, because they both know he's right. But she'll fight the inevitability of whatever is happening to the end, so she sits back down on the bed, covering her body with the sheet, unthreatened, defiant.

Steve continues to stare, slowly straightening his upper body. He moves forward slowly, dragging his legs across the bed until he's right in front of her and raises his hand, to pull a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Catherine closes her eyes, breath catching in her throat, and silently prays for him to stop, startled by the shooting fire that travels from her abdomen to her chest area and explodes there. They're playing a dangerous game, and she knows it, emotions magnified by the tension. But here, outside their normal, deterring element, in dangerous, unknown circumstances, where they may die the next day… somehow normal rules don't apply. Survival is all that's been on their minds, all day, and suddenly, another basic human instinct takes charge. They may have lacked communication skills throughout their relationship, but not sexual chemistry, and her body still has its muscle memory intact.

Suddenly, she feels his face nearing hers, heat radiating from his breath, and his lips grazing her cheek. This is the best and worst possible feeling, all rolled into one. Steve then starts to slowly move in the direction of her lips, but Catherine opens her eyes and mumbles a "don't" without too much emphasis, looking straight at him, pleading. Steve complies with her request and simply moves to sit behind her, holding her around the waist. He reaches an arm to the makeshift nightstand, to turn off the light, and scoots down on the bed, taking Catherine with him. He doesn't utter a single word, but instead pulls the covers up over their shoulders and spoons his body behind hers on the narrow bed, right arm still on her waist. Catherine sighs, defeated, afraid that if she decides to talk, then all will be lost. She tries to find a comfortable position without nestling into him, too nervous to even breathe properly, and hugs the covers with all her strength.

They stay like that for a long while, breathing evening out, feeling each other's warmth and comfort. Catherine wonders how is it possible that she went for so long without feeling this man's embrace, and shivers at the thought of having to let him go; Steve revels in the familiar feeling of happiness when holding the right woman. Both feel at peace, and happy in their temporary, individual bubble, an unfamiliar feeling they haven't experienced in a long while, in the middle of a war zone, thousands of miles from either home. Not wanting to disrupt the silent, unsteady balance that's just been reached, Catherine decides to try and get some rest and, surprisingly, falls asleep in Steve's arms in no time.

An hour later, she jerks awake, momentarily unaware of her whereabouts. Despite the faint moonlight coming in through the window, the room is enveloped in darkness, and Catherine feels comforted by it. After all, sometimes it's better to stay in the dark, where there may be fear, but also hope. She can feel a warm body molded next to hers, holding her tight by the waist, and can't help but smile, thinking how comforting and homely Steve's sleeping embrace has always felt and still does, even after all these years of separation. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, aware that they can't sleep in the same room until morning; it would raise too many questions, should he be caught leaving her quarters in his sleep clothes, and the gossip mill within the Agency would go crazy. She simply can't risk it and she knows it, so he needs to go soon. Catherine closes her eyes again, still smiling and feels Steve move behind her.

"Awake, Lieutenant?" he asks, voice low and rough.

Sighing, Catherine opens her eyes and turns to face Steve. She wants to kiss him so badly, she can taste it, and her panic is real. "You need to go." Her voice sounds so final, it startles even her. But this is the best way not to fall into temptation.

He's surprised and doesn't hide it. "Cath? What is it?"

"What is it?" Her voice rises in pitch, and now she's annoyed. "You can't be serious, right now. You will not do this to me."

He doesn't understand her reaction, so he tries to reason with her. "Look, I know this is not the time or place for this, but..."

"What are you talking about, Steve?" And now, she's really annoyed, like there would ever be a time and a place! "Look, we're here for a reason, so let's get our minds on the mission, OK? And since I can't have any rumours going around regarding the two of us, because I'll eventually have to return, you need to make sure there's no one in the hall. Now go."

As she says it, she turns again, back to him, and covers herself with the entire blanket, praying he doesn't ask anything else, feeling miserable to her core. But she won't shed a tear until he's gone.

"This conversation is not over, Catherine," and his voice is commanding, hurt. "I would hope that you can, at least, tell me what's going on. But I'll respect your request, for now. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't know you."

"Oh, that's precious!" she huffs, getting up and heading for the door, aware of the irony. You know nothing about me or my life, these days, Lieutenant Commander. Now, please, leave. Just go," and she opens the door, worry about possible onlookers forgotten. Temporary insanity is what she'll ascribe her attitude to, in the morning.

Dumbfounded, Steve goes back to his room to try and get some sleep. He racks his brain for possible reasons that may explain Catherine's odd behaviour, but can't find any. All he knows is that, suddenly, one of the truths he's been running from, all his adult life, is staring him right in the face. And he's tired of running. Now may be his last chance. And he'll be damned if he'll let it pass him by without so much as a grab.


	31. Review thanks

Hello, review leavers!

After having received the nicest review from a guest half a day ago (which was left 2,5 days ago, not sure why it takes FanFiction SO long to deliver these!), I thought it was about time to personally thank each and every one of you who took the time to write. It really is true, that reviews are what fills our hearts with joy! Without them, you have no idea if what you're doing is pleasing anyone.

I never wrote fanfiction before in my life (I do something completely different, for a living!), and even this was done from a slightly "embarrassed" corner. I'm no writer, so who would want to read my story? In the end, the need to "push" this baby out, won. I only started to watch H50 about 2 years ago, and only discovered FanFiction about a year ago. I had no idea that people wrote FanFiction, but find it amazing that they do – to the delight of many TV and Movie fans, I'm sure!

And one day, on one of my outdoor exercise sessions, this idea came to my mind. As all ideas, great and small (this is very small, naturally), it started with a general outline of what I would like to see happen (this was shortly after 9.11). Then, the idea grew a few branches. Then, I decided to jot down some bullet points, sometime later transferred it to a word document. At some point, the points became around 50… I begged for a Beta, got two. The first one, disappeared after 2 emails exchanged. The second was busy with her exams and after she graduated, she disappeared too. So I had two choices: do the same or press on. By this time, I had started to write down ideas or small sentences on my "Note" App, and would then send them to my email address, to compile the text at home. And words became sentences, sentences became paragraphs. Which is why I have whole chunks of text written, already, but the rest are mere ideas. Thus taking so long to publish. Sometimes, those missing pieces of text don't "flow". I need to marinate them for 1 or 2 days, rework them, marinate some more. This is a process, but I find that, most of the time, the text writes itself. It's very, very interesting, as a process. Anyway, to the comments. And don't be sad that it's just my comments, I am posting a new chapter after this. ;-)

**To the Guest who commented "update, update, update", I'll try, I'll try, I'll try… ;-) ;-)**

Not sure why it's not showing up on FanFiction…

Guest chapter 29 . Apr 16

love love love this

**THANK YOU! Hope you keep reading.**

Guest chapter 29 . Apr 15

I LOVE this story seriously like its probably the best Mcroll fanfic I've ever read, but I think at this point we might be backtracking a little. I think it would be very like them to push anything down especially for the sake of a mission, but as Catherine drove away in her car last time she clearly said going back lost its appeal. I think Steve and Catherine need to stop letting each other in and then all of a sudden shutting down like this and at least let little things slip even if they're not ready to actually sit and talk this out. Because that is a little more like them. I think at this point thieve spent enough time together that at least in their mind they should be able to acknowledge that they have feelings for each other and be battling that. I mean I honestly thought during that whole Christmas sequence that we were gonna gonna get something and then they just shut off completely. I love them but they really kinda took a thousand steps forward and two thousand steps back. your talent is incredible and I can't wait to see where you take this story next.

**WOW – thank you from the bottom of my heart! ;-) ;-) ;-) You've made my day. Week. Month, probably ;-)**

**There's no backtracking, believe me, I know what I'm doing (I think). Don't forget a few things: Steve and Catherine don't communicate. Catherine thinks he's still with Lynn. She's conservative, in that respect (I don't find that conservative, I find it being a decent woman with a lot of self-respect, but hey, sign of the times…). Steve was very hurt by what she did, but instead of being a Man (capital M), he decided to get angry. He threw an ultimatum at her face. Gave her no choice. Failed to realise that she may have had her reasons. The fact that going back to work may have lost its appeal, doesn't invalidate the fact that Steve has done nothing to show her that he wants her back. Don't forget that Catherine left, after Kono's wedding. She loves her job – she'll continue doing it - why not? If you can't be happy in love, at least be happy in the Professional aspect of your life…**

**She came back on 7.07 and he was mad. M-A-D. He rolled his eyes at Lynn, when introducing Cath, as though saying. "What is SHE doing here? What a nerve! Sorry for this", and Lynn was like: "OK, calm your horses, it's fine." Then, when he realises she's come to help his mother… that's when he starts to see her in a slightly different light, I hope he was embarrassed. They have their talk on the plane, which is, really, no talk at all. He asks when she was recruited, she tells him Afghanistan, he huffs and that's it. That's no conversation! But he's mad. The way they say goodbye, on that airstrip… he realises he still loves her (don't forget when he tells the other McGarrett that the right woman has already come and gone because he couldn't hold on to her, and when he tells Harry that he used to have one of those "the only one I ever let in", and he was already dating Lynn at those times!), but would never have the courage to tell her. First, because he has a girlfriend, second because he refuses to tell her that he regrets telling her what he did. But the way he touches the plane… he knows he loves her. His look, it's clearly evident. The man is a good actor. So he goes home and tries his hardest to be happy with Lynn. Sort of like a… mad dash. "I WILL be happy with this one, if only to show the other that I can be happy without her!)**

**Then, she comes back on 8.20. He's still mad, as evidenced by his reaction to Lou's antics behind her back, in the bullpen (not ordering him to STOP that immediately), but he cuts her some slack. They have that silly "I'm doing perfect without you, I'm even dating!" conversation, and again, he remembers that she's the one. That funny scene where she climbs the tree… clearly, some nicely done sexual innuendo, there! Her return had such an impact on him that on 9.01, so in theory, 10 weeks later, we learn that he broke up with Lynn. Because he realised, no matter how hard he tried, she would never be the one (as I detailed in the beginning of my story).**

**So, then, 9.11… he's single, now. She comes to his aid. Drops everything. And they spend one month together. So this is the time he finally forgives her for lying, for leaving, for not opening up to him. Though, in this last part, he also shares the blame. Big time. He realises she's the one. But he's grieving. Joe just died. And he has a lot to think about. That kind of man would never jump into a relationship (or even just sex!) with the love of his life, (or any woman, for that matter!) without thinking it through thoroughly (see how he's approached his "dating" dinners?). And Montana is a process. He slowly comes back to life, he slowly lets go of his grief, he slowly finishes forgiving her. Christmas was smack in the middle of it, he wasn't going to woo her at her parent's house, without so much as a conversation, right? And it has to come from him, he needs to chase after her. He's the Alpha here, somehow Catherine, when it comes to love, is not an Alpha. Maybe it's just with Steve, and she wouldn't behave like that with other men? Don't know. But she's incisive and very sharp. She says the stuff she needs to say, with slight sarcasm, but lets him take his time. Maybe it was because she wasn't so sure of her standing, in his life (and maybe that's why she left, ultimately), but she never demanded anything from him, definition or affection. And in the end, that was part of the problem, of course. She mistook his actions (or lack thereof) for insecurity about wanting her to share his life, when it was nothing like that (wedding ring!). of course, they'd never lived together, before he settled in Hawai'i, so there was no background to that. But they don't talk. So they also need to learn to do that. And that will take a while. For me.**

**Regarding the thousand steps forward and 2.000 steps back… isn't that how things are, in life, sometimes? Especially with two people like them? I find this much more believable than just setting the scene for a story and then just blurting out the coming together, without taking into consideration how the characters are constructed, in the original series. There's a lot of baggage, with those two. And if they are going to find common ground and build on their love, it needs to be on a slab of concrete, not a wonky bridge made out of wooden planks, over a canyon, in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie.**

CatherineHF0 chapter 30 . Apr 17

I love this story so much! Please update soon!

**THANK YOU! I am trying... but I work every day, so it's not easy. But the story wants to write itself, so there's that…. ;-) ;-)**

unichick21 chapter 29 . Apr 16

eeek! I love this and wished we got to see more of Steve and Catherine's reunion in the finale. I would love for them to of had a serious talk about what happened between them, their feelings and trying again. Glad you are addressing this in your story and can't wait for you to update.

McRoll is Endgame!

**THANK YOU! So did I – but I guess the naysayers and McHaters managed to influence PL just a little bit. Don't get me wrong – I LOVE him for giving us that finale. Yay! Maybe it just gave us the perfect setting to now grow from it and imagine, in writing, how they would've moved on from that to "Steve having grandchildren", as PL put it. No matter what the haters may say (and I've read a few preposterous theories on FB) they ended up together. That, we'll always have! They can't take that away from us ;-)**

FicreaderT chapter 10 . Mar 19

You have me very intrigued with this story and I hope to read more. I, too, believe these two are endgame and I'm enjoying your take on how it might work out. I look forward to your next update!

**THANK YOU! Hang on tight! This story is far from over. Thank you for the feedback.**

AgentD.6 chapter 3 . Feb 10

So far you have brought us a wonderful story that many of us would love to think could happen on the show. But for that to happen, like in your story, forgiveness on both Steve and Catherine's part must take place. Catherine for leaving but Steve for being so reluctant to finally open up to his feelings for Catherine. Re watching episodes let's you see she was simply waiting for him to say I love you and so want you with me! I hope we at least get to see it in your story.

**THANK YOU!** **You are correct – they need to forgive each other and learn to communicate. And lose that stupid fear of looking silly to the other. Yes, she knows that the decision must come from him – look at the final scene! She stood there, unsure of herself, only sat down when he asked her if she was going to, only touched him when he opened his hand. She took the steps, but it was his decision. That's how they roll. Not sure why she's like that, as stated above. ;-) Maybe women shouldn't force definition out of men – most of them say that's the fastest and easiest way to lose them. "If a man wants a woman in his life, he'll put her there."**

BlueSky chapter 3 . Jan 28

I really love how you portray emotions in your characters; I feel as though I am experiencing all of Steve's emotions myself! Also, I'm so glad you aren't afraid to let him show emotion, since he is so often portrayed as the stone cold Navy SEAL (which I also love, but is is still human). I truly feel as though Catherine understands him the most out of everyone, after all their shared/similar experiences and time together, so I'm really happy with how that shines through. I can't wait to read more, and thank you for this lovely story!

**THANK YOU!** **As the Brazilians say, "first trip sailor", over here. What would be the fun of a story where we don't delve into the character's emotions, right? That's the only way to understand their actions and how they're built. The dilemmas within them, slowly revealing how they will act. And no, Steve is very human, he just doesn't let his emotions show, but he naturally has them. For me, that's the interesting part. Catherine knows him best, yes – and he knows that. She's "the one he ever let in", his girl, the one who got away. Towards the end, he was finally able to admit that to a stranger (easier than if it had been, say, Danny. I think to Danny, he wouldn't have admitted it). And ultimately, that was the catalyst for the final scene, their reunion. They only got together because Steve finally admitted she was the one (and Lincoln was very skilled at reading between the lines).**

Scaramou chapter 3 . Jan 10

I think somethings happened because it's now telling me chapter 1 is at the end and the story begins with chapter 2

**THANK YOU for reading my story and for letting me know. I was still getting to grips with this publishing thing… ;-)**

Ellaitaly chapter 1 . Jan 4

Love this story! Waiting for more

**THANK YOU!** **Hope you keep reading.**

Dee47 chapter 3 . Jan 4

Always love reading more Steve/Catherine scenes, so thanks for sharing! You're doing a great job of fleshing out this storyline that we didn't get enough of on the show.

**THANK YOU! I felt that I just HAD to write it, it was within me yearning to get out, like "Aliens"! Ahahahahah!**

SteveMcGarrettLover chapter 3 . Jan 4

Loved it! You write so well, and I enjoy everything you do! I can't wait for more, maybe Catheirne can convince him to shower, and she could help?

I am loving this story! It is so raw, so heartwrenching and wonderful at the same time!

**THANK YOU!** **First review that left me speechless. You have no idea how good these are! Re: your suggestion, read above. They are necessarily taking their time and even after, it'll be complicated… ;-)**

CatherineMcG chapter 1 . Dec 21, 2019

Wow, great story. Love it. I hope you continue soon.

**THANK YOU!** **Hope you keep reading.**

LAURA chapter 1 . Dec 21, 2019

I can't wait for you to publish another chapter of this story, because I really liked the first chapter ... and I can't wait for Catherine and Steve to come together again

love forever Steve and Catherine

**THANK YOU!** **Hope you're continuing to enjoy yourself. They will…. In due time. This is a McRoll story. McRoll forever!**

CATH chapter 1 . Dec 21, 2019

Oh my God, another mcroll story, I love it ... I can't wait for you to publish the next chapter,

by the way I would also like steve and cath to be together

**THANK YOU! Hope you keep reading. They will… eventually.**

Guest, Khellbells and Guest – thank you for the time you took to review. It means the world!

CATH1975 chapter 1 . Dec 22, 2019

I am a big fan of Steve and Catherine as a couple and I love that the authors who publish on fanfiction write stories of the return of Catherine to Hawaii and how they are together again, forever, married and with children ... .Well, I am increasingly convinced and I am super sad, because I have realized ... that in the Hawaii 5.0 series ... Catherine and Steve will never be together again ... that's why I decided that since that I march Catherine to Kiev, never see any other episode in the series, unless Catherine appeared again ... I have fulfilled

changing the subject, I loved the first chapter of your first story of mcroll in fanficion and I hope it is not the last one you publish ...

I can't wait for you to publish the second chapter of the story, to know the conversation between Catherine and Steve.

love catherine and steve

**THANK YOU! Luckily, we were both wrong… hope you enjoyed the finale, as I did (as any McRoller did) and are enjoying the story.**

GreenEyes09 chapter 1 . Dec 21, 2019

Awesome story, I love it!

**THANK YOU!** **Hope you keep reading.**


	32. Chapter 31

The next morning, at 0755 hours, Steve is already at Captain Hamilton's door, eager to start the day. Well, if he's being really honest with himself, he's eager to get this briefing done so he can go in search of Catherine, but that is beside the point. He's out of luck, though – his Superior Officer is running late, this morning. By the time Steve exits the Navy building, it's almost 0930 hours, and he's now annoyed at all this waste of time. A thought fleetingly crosses his mind, but he dismisses it almost instantly – the CIA would not proceed without him, would they? As he enters the CIA building, engrossed in his thoughts, he immediately spots Officer Morrison in deep conversation with Catherine, both apparently waiting for him.

\- "Lieutenant Commander, good morning. We were waiting for you, to get started," the man says, pleasantly.

\- "Yes, sorry, my briefing with Captain Hamilton took longer than expected, I couldn't get out any sooner," he replies, stealing a sideways glance at Catherine. She looks annoyed, still.

\- "Well, you should get going, if you want to get there in time. Good luck to you all." And with that, he looks at Catherine, nods and leaves.

Catherine starts walking, at a pace that says she's still annoyed, but trying not to be rude.

\- "Good morning, Catherine." Her full name comes out of his lips without thought, but Steve immediately feels that he's trying for a level of intimacy that is, somehow, wrong, right now. He doesn't correct himself, though. That would be bringing attention to the matter.

Nevertheless, Catherine is quick to point out his mistake to him. "Good morning, _'Sir'_."

\- "Lieutenant, can we please…" he tries, with his best conciliatory tone.

But she's already interrupting him, as they near their vehicle and opens a map on the hood. "According to the informant's data, we should start our search here," and she points to a spot on the map, marked by blue concentric lines. The army squad that is accompanying them also gathers round, to hear her indications. "And keep our attention on the entrance to the Pass the man spoke of. Where the insurgents are supposed to come out of. If his intel is to be trusted. We'll see, I guess." She looks around, everyone seems to be clear on the information. "Are we ready to go?"

They get going, and by the end of the second hour, Steve is starting to regret having decided to ride in the same vehicle as Catherine. She seems disturbed by his presence, and even their normal 'we don't know each other, other than through this mission' isn't working anymore. She refuses to look at him or exchange any words with him, and it's leaving everyone else uncomfortable.

After about four hours, the convoy makes a stop and the soldiers leave the confines of the vehicle, leaving both of them alone, inside. Steve sighs, looking at her sideways, but when Catherine still does not utter a word, he makes a decision, defeated.

\- "I think it's best we ride the rest of the way in separate vehicles. We're making everybody else here uncomfortable."

Catherine huffs, annoyed. "I don't give a damn about the others. My main concern here is me. But you're right. We do need to spend some time apart. We're on a mission where people may lose their lives, it's no time to be dealing with anything else."

\- "I had hoped you'd be willing to talk about what happened last night." At that, she pins him with a glare.

\- "No, I have no intention of going back to that subject. Ever. And I'll thank you not to knock on my door again," she throws at him, looking away.

The rest of the convoy's journey is quite uneventful and as the group reaches the foot of the hill, they spot armed lookouts, local tribesmen, guarding the entrance to the Pass. So, for a few hours and until it gets dark, they wait, patiently. Both Catherine and Steve assume their "mission" mode, all thoughts of personal differences now aside. They're professional enough to know that everybody's lives depend on each other. Here, there is no room for grievances or resentment.

At around 2230 hours, the lookouts start to congregate to the opening of the Pass, clearly waiting for the insurgents to arrive. After about 20 minutes, the first few emerge from the belly of the mountain and are taken to vehicles waiting nearby. Catherine and Steve look at each other, in a silent conversation: "Shall we attack now, or wait until Al-Nazri shows up?" The men continue to pour and time runs out, they're out of options. Steve moves to the area where the vehicles are, taking a few of the soldiers with him, while Catherine stays in her lookout point, as backup, should there be any problem with Steve or the soldiers.

Despite their guns, the armed lookouts are quickly overpowered, and the soldiers manage to also capture the five men who came out of the Pass and were getting ready to drive away. However, this means that they alert the other lookouts, who quickly move to the inside of the Pass and disappear. By the time the soldiers reach the entrance, there's no one there. After debating their options, a decision is made: they will all return to the Base, as not knowing how many paths exist inside the belly of the mountain would most certainly get them all killed. They attach a charge of explosives to the entrance, blow it up and get back on their military convoy, with their prisoners. A message is sent back to the Base, warning them that the insurgents may very well double back and exit from where they entered.

By the time the convoy returns to Shindand, it's almost 0700 hours. Steve only has time to take a shower and change, before there's a knock on his door. It's the petty officer from the first day, again, with a note from Captain Hamilton, asking him to come see him at once. Sighing, he thanks the messenger and finishes getting ready. His debrief with Captain Hamilton and a few other Navy personnel takes up a good part of the morning, as the men try to study the best option to move forward. Surveillance of the Pass's exit, on their end, has yielded no results and Steve is feeling frustrated. Suddenly, Captain Hamilton receives a note and breaks out a smile, looking at Steve:

\- "Commander, all is not lost. It seems that a CIA team got word that one of the insurgents never made it to the Pass, last night. He was caught in the village, hiding out in one of the homes."

\- "CIA team, Sir?" Steve says, suspicious. "Why wasn't I called in?"

\- "You were in here, with us, and apparently the information was very time sensitive," Hamilton says, understanding Steve. "Commander, just be happy that the man was found, as it is, with minimal inconvenience to you."

Setting his annoyance aside, he's now curious. "Who is the prisoner, Sir? Do they know?"

Captain Hamilton reads the note once more, to make sure he's giving out the right information. "Name's Ahmed Zahed, from what our informants tell us."

Steve smiles, once again. "He was Al-Nazri's second in command in the bombings! He must know where Al-Nazri is." And then, turning serious, he straightens his body and says: "Sir, permission to interrogate the prisoner?"

Captain Hamilton smiles again, already half expecting it. "Of course, Lieutenant Commander. As soon as we're done."

* * *

An hour later, Steve goes in search of Officer Morrison in the CIA building. As soon as he enters, there's a whirlwind of people hurrying past, and a sense of urgency hangs in the air. Something has definitely happened, but no one even notices he's there, so he walks to the elevator and presses his floor. Exiting the cab, he moves in the direction of the office he's looking for, but immediately spots Officer Morrison a few feet away, belting out orders to a few subordinates. The mocking countenance of the man is gone; whatever this is, it was serious enough that everyone looks scared, or sad, Steve's not sure. Finally locking eyes with the man, Steve signals to him and Morrison starts to move in his direction. As he reaches Steve, he says, matter of factly:

\- "Lieutenant Commander, Captain Hamilton tells me you want to interrogate the prisoner."

\- "As we had agreed, yes, I do. But… what happened?"

\- "Nothing that concerns non-CIA personnel. Come on, I'll take you to the prisoner."

Still suspicious, but aware that he can't argue with the CIA, Steve lets himself be guided to the cells, in the basement, where he is led to a room where Zahed is already waiting.

\- "We haven't interrogated him, yet, Commander. We were waiting, in case you wanted to have first crack at him, as agreed," and he almost sounds human, civil, amenable. He tries to crack a smile at Steve, but fails miserably. Steve wonders if it's because he hardly ever does it.

\- "Thank you. Will Lieutenant Rollins be joining us?" and as he says it, a flicker of alarm burns in the man's eyes. However, as quickly as it has surfaced, it's gone.

\- "No, unfortunately Lieutenant Rollins is unavailable."

He lingers there, looking almost apologetic and Steve starts to get an eerie feeling about the whole exchange. Suddenly, Morrison's mobile phone rings and, looking relieved, he excuses himself, leaving Steve outside the prisoner's door, all alone.

Zahed has little to add to what Steve already knows; he was hired by Al-Nazri to purchase the explosives and fly them to the island, under the radar, using a connection and his underground network of criminals. He was paid fifty thousand dollars for the job and, a day before the bombs were set to go off, he returned to Afghanistan. He knows Al-Nazri also returned, via Pakistan, and the last he heard, his employer was supposed to have crossed into Pakistan again, the night before. If he managed to or not, Zahed has no idea. He hasn't heard of him, of from him, since. But he warns Steve that Al-Nazri is very well connected, in the region. He also discloses that there had been more than three targets, making Steve cringe, but Al-Nazri had become impatient about the authorities snooping around their safe house, and had decided to go ahead with just the three. Steve informs the man that he will be subject to a CIA interrogation, as soon as he is done with him, and that after that, he will be taken to Hawai'i to stand trial for the murder of 13 people. When he comes out of the room, Morrison is waiting.

\- "Well?"

\- "Have you been listening in?"

\- "No, sorry, I had to sort out another emergency," and he seems genuine." What did you get out of him?"

\- "Not much more than what we already knew. He was hired to do the job by Al-Nazri, who paid him $50,000. He flew back the day before the bombings, never saw him. Told me Al-Nazri entered Afghanistan through Pakistan and that he suspects he fled that way again. But he hasn't seen or heard from him since before he left for Hawai'i."

\- "We sent some men to the entrance of the Pass. No one has come back out through it, so we can assume there are alternate escape routes through the mountain. How do you want to proceed?"

\- "Captain Hamilton seems to think that there is no point in staying here. If Al-Nazri resurfaces, it'll take some time."

\- "I agree. He's not a stupid man, nor is he devoid of help. The smartest thing for him to do, right now, is to lay low. Until we forget he exists."

\- "I'll never forget he exists, for as long as I live. And neither will the families of the dead and injured."

\- "Don't worry, Commander, neither will the CIA. We'll continue to look for him and if he is alive, we'll catch him. In the meantime, we'll arrange for the transport of your prisoner to the mainland and then to Hawai'i. You get to have the satisfaction of being at his trial and seeing him be convicted of murder."

Steve looks at Morrison, again struck by how much more human he sounds, than before. Death has a way of doing that to you, he thinks, sad.

\- "Well, guess I'd better be off, then. Thank you for all your help."

\- "You're welcome, Commander. Have a safe journey back home."

\- "I hope so," Steve says, smiling. "Trip out here was not the easiest."

\- "No, I know," Morrison says, praying he turns around and leaves.

\- "By the way, do you know where I can find Lieutenant Rollins? I would like to say goodbye."

For the second time today, Steve sees alarm in the man's eyes, and he gets the feeling Morrison is not a man easily alarmed. His pulse starts to race, while he mentally pieces the evidence together: the abnormal rush, downstairs and Morrison's countenance and general change of demeanour, towards him.

\- "Sorry, I'm afraid Lieutenant Rollins was recalled back to Washington. Have a safe trip, Commander." And with that, he turns around and heads for the stairs, disappearing.

Steve feels like he's just been punched in the gut. He had hoped he and Catherine could talk and sort out whatever is going on between them, but now the chance has passed. Until when, he has no idea. He takes his cell phone out of one of his pockets and nervously brings it to life, hoping to find at least one text notification, but finds none. He heads for Captain Hamilton's office, to officially inform the Navy of the results of Zahed's interrogation and, after the briefing is done and before leaving for the airport, he decides to ask, anyway.

\- "Sir, I'm sorry for veering off the course of this meeting, but have you any idea why Lieutenant Rollins was sent back to Washington?"

Hamilton eyes him kindly, sighing. He sits down and motions to Steve.

\- "Sit down, Commander. I was made aware that you and Lieutenant Rollins were friends only a few hours ago, by Officer Morrison."

Steve is really not liking where this is going. His suspicions, in the CIA building, are now screaming at the top of their lungs, at him.

\- "Yes, Sir, we've been friends since Navy Intelligence. But I can assure you that our friendship didn't…"

Hamilton smiles and dismisses him with a flick of the hand. "Don't worry, Commander, the Navy has nothing to do with whom you're friends with. It appears that the CIA team that captured Zahed were met by some enemy fire when they got to Khayfan. One of the CIA officers was badly injured, two more suffered some injuries, of undetermined severity. Lieutenant Rollins was one of them, I'm afraid."

Steve can feel his entire reserve of blood flee to unknown domains, hands clammy, heart beating loudly in his chest, deafening his ears. His breathing becomes laboured and he's now very happy that his Superior Officer told him to sit down. While feeling his panic rise, he silently begs the higher powers not to take her away from him in such a stupid manner, and through his own actions, indirectly.

\- "Thank you for informing me, Sir. I guess the CIA couldn't be bothered," he blurts out, ready to bite Morrison's head off, in his mind. His first assessment of the man had been right, after all.

\- "Don't judge him too harshly, Commander. He barely knows what happened himself."

\- "But he knows we are friends. He could've told me," Steve goes on, stubbornly.

\- "Actually, we thought it best if I gave you the news. If you asked."

\- "Of course, Sir. Was she sent to Washington?"

\- "Yes, she was stable enough to be transported. She could've been treated here, but she asked to be sent home. The CIA agreed. Commander, all this is confidential information. Please act accordingly."

These news floor Steve again, but he doesn't let his Superior Officer become aware of it. Getting up, he makes a split decision and decides to act on it.

\- "Of course, Sir. I'll be the soul of discretion. I have a request to make of you, Sir."

\- "Ask away, Commander."

\- "I have a sister who is in Washington, right now, Sir. Given that we wrapped up early, here, and that I still have 4 days, would it be possible for me to make a pit stop there?"

\- "Of course, I'll have the Navy make the necessary changes to your travel papers, Commander."

\- "Thank you, Sir, for everything."

\- "Good luck, Commander. Tell your sister," and he looks pointedly at him, as he gets up, "that I hope she'll be on her feet in no time. Good luck."

Embarrassed, Steve lowers his eyes and salutes Captain Hamilton. Congenial, indeed. Two hours later, he's back on the Hercules C-130 headed for Washington, on edge. This will end up being the longest flight of his life.


	33. Chapter 32

After a tormented 10-hour flight, unable to sleep and thinking about all the possible scenarios for Catherine's injuries, Steve disembarks at the Lajes Air Base, in Terceira Island, Azores. From high up in the sky, he can see two large runways, parallel to each other, bordered on one side by houses, which he supposes to be living quarters for the base personnel. Beyond them and right up to the land's edge, green everywhere. It looks like a patch quilt of irregular squares, lush and vibrant, full of life. In the distance, the patchwork continues, high up a hill, only to be replaced, halfway, with dense forest, surrounded by mist and mystery. On the ground, as he explores his surroundings, he realises that the frail separators of the patchwork squares are, in fact, strong, ancient and bulky stone walls, covered in moss, probably built long before he was even born. And quietly and slowly grazing, mimicking the pace of the island, an enormous quantity of Holstein Friesians, with their characteristic black spotted markings. Steve suddenly feels transported back to Hawai'i; apart from the fact that this archipelago of islands lies exactly on the other side of the world from his island home, it also looks remarkably like it. He smiles to himself, wondering if God is throwing him a lifeline of consolation.

Having a few hours to kill, he decides to accept an invitation to dinner. As it happens, he knows one of the pilots, from his time in Navy Intelligence. Before they leave the base, however, he finally decides to make the phone call that he's been hesitating making for the past five hours, ever since the idea came to his mind. Mulling over his situation, he sadly concludes that Catherine did indeed run away from him, in a way. As per Captain Hamilton's words, she could've stayed in Afghanistan, but she had asked to be sent home – without so much as a message, or a text, to him. Steve feels angry and hurt, as he realises that she left without even considering that he would be worried about her, when he found out what had happened. Another thought fleetingly crosses his mind: why hadn't she tried to get a hold of him, before going into Khayfan? Was she so angry at him, because of what had happened the night before, that she had preferred to go alone? Or had she simply been under orders? Most of all, though, he's really scared, because he doesn't know what happened to her. Steve breathes deeply, trying to ward off sad, but familiar feelings of deep loss, and unlocks his phone to dial the number he's been able to obtain from the secretary in the Administration Office. After getting through to who he wanted to talk to, he can now go out to dinner feeling a bit more at ease. At least he now has a plan.

The nearest town, Praia da Vitória, is a beautiful quaint city 10 minutes way, which boasts a dark-coloured, sandy beach peppered with straw beach umbrellas, a marina full of yachts near the waterfront, lined with dark grey and white cobblestoned streets. The buildings look like they came out of a colonial, period novel, all painted white, with bright yellow, or dark stone trim. The evening is mild and pleasant, for winter, and the whole waterfront is illuminated by warm lights, making it look almost like a nativity scene. Steve can spot at least three church turrets nearby, and he again prays, silently, that Catherine is all right.

Three hours later, properly wined and dined on the freshest and most delicious fish he has ever had, Steve is back at the base, getting ready to board the plane that will take him on the next leg of his journey. He thanks the Navy pilot for keeping him company and showing him the sights, and bids him farewell, wondering if they'll ever see each other again. Inside the plane, he settles himself for another six and a half hours of uncomfortable and cramped flying, but soon after takeoff surprisingly falls asleep.

It's already five o'clock in the afternoon when the plane touches down in Washington D.C.. Relieved at finally having arrived, but feeling tired and hurting all over, Steve goes in search of a shower, at the base. The warm water manages to wake him up and relieve him of the pain of sitting for so many hours in the same position, but it doesn't manage to quash the feeling of urgency now gnawing at him. He quickly gets dressed and rushes to the exit, in search of a cab to take him to his next destination. He's unsure of his next move, but has no other choice.

* * *

**Rollins Sr. Residence**

**Washington D.C.**

**1830 hours**

Elizabeth Rollins enters her home library and closes the door softly behind her. She reaches the desk and sits in the chair, reclining and breathing deeply, nervous about the phone call she needs to make, cognizant of its importance. She has always loved the idea of Steven McGarrett as a son-in-law – a handsome man of action, honourable, a SEAL and Navy, like her husband. More importantly, he clearly loved her daughter very much and she him, despite the life they led, Catherine always deployed, Steve always on classified, dangerous missions. She never really understood why her daughter had decided to leave Hawai'i when she had, nor the reasons she'd had to make that decision. At the time, Catherine had thrown herself into work and only come home four months after leaving Hawai'i, and when Elizabeth Rollins had tried to pry into her reasons, Catherine had simply told her that she had no wish to discuss her love life at that moment. Elizabeth had respected her request, scared at having left her on the brink of tears, but on subsequent visits had managed to extract small tidbits of information from Catherine and also learned not to ask again. This was clearly a subject too painful for her daughter and, despite being sad at the turn of events, Elizabeth had had to accept her daughter's choice of new job and the dangers that unfortunately went with it. Steven McGarrett, however, had remained a fond memory and vivid hope in her mind, and when he'd called her the day before, asking to see her, she had warmly invited him to come over as soon as he landed. Naturally, Steve had told her nothing of what had happened in Afghanistan; if Catherine had omitted the information, it's because she didn't want her own mother to worry, and she knew very well how to manage her. Steve had told Elizabeth that he was returning to Hawai'i after a few days in New York, where he'd been working on a case, and he had thought of calling in on Catherine, to catch up. After Christmas, he thought her mother wouldn't suspect anything and he had been right. Elizabeth Rollins was more worried about what his visit meant, in terms of her daughter getting back together with the man she knew was right for her, than why exactly Steve was in town.

Turning her phone on, Elizabeth dials Catherine's number. If she answers, that will mean she's home. After a few seconds of a familiar ring, she hears a click and her daughter's tired voice.

\- "Hi, mom," Catherine greets her, smiling.

\- "Hi, honey, it's so nice to hear your voice, I missed you. How are you?"

\- "I'm fine, tired and still sleepy, but fine." Her mother will never be able to understand the level of tiredness Catherine is experiencing right now or even what she went through in the last few days, so she just lets it go. "How's Dad?"

\- "He's fine, honey, he had a work dinner at the Pentagon. How long have you been home?" Elizabeth asks, slightly hurt that her daughter didn't call her when she got back.

\- "I got home about 12 hours ago... I was tired and sleep deprived, mom… all I wanted was my bed, my sheets and my pillow," she lies down on her bed, again, understanding her mother's question. "Speaking of which, I was getting ready to go back to them. Can we talk tomorrow? I'll call you when I wake up, promise."

\- "Did everything go OK on your trip? You know your father and I worry about you, honey…" Elizabeth goes on, undeterred, with that motherly sixth sense they often have. "I hate that job of yours. Whenever you're gone, I am always worried about what might happen."

\- "Mom, please, not this again! It's the life I chose and I'm OK with it," Catherine counters, sighing. Never has she protested less emphatically.

\- "Listen to yourself! You're OK with it? You shouldn't be OK with your life, you should be happy, honey!"

Elizabeth Rollins' exclamation makes Catherine cringe, at once again having been masterfully tricked into disclosing how she truly feels.

\- "I AM happy, mom! Let's just not go there, OK?"

\- "How am I supposed to not worry about you, Catherine? What happened with Steve, in the end?"

\- "Huh? Steve?" she stands at attention, dumbfounded, but surprised at her mother's precision. "What does Steve have to do with our conversation?"

\- "You were with him, recently, right? I had hoped that you two might have…"

But Elizabeth Rollins is quickly interrupted. "Mom, we went after some people who killed his old SEAL Commander. It was just work, OK?"

\- "But you were with him, in Montana, for over two weeks before you came here. Was there no… spark, nothing?" Elizabeth asks, grasping at straws, holding on to hope. She's no fool, Steve's sitting in her living room for a reason.

\- "It was nothing like that, he was grieving. Besides, remember I told you, Steve has a girlfriend? Last time I was on the island, which was, like, a year ago, he spoke of her, said everything was going fine. They're probably living together by now," Catherine finishes, lowering the phone to her neck and closing her eyes, a stab of pain reaching her insides and making her sick.

\- "Sweetheart…" Elizabeth commiserates, having heard the faint change in her daughter's tone of voice.

\- "Look, mom, I chose to leave Steve and Hawai'i, and join the CIA, so I can't blame anyone for it. That path, that you are thinking of, is now closed to me. Steve is living in Hawai'i, he has a girlfriend, he's probably going to marry her, and they're going to have children and be happy ever after and… I'm happy for him, you know? Happy that at least one of us can have a semblance of a normal life. The life that everyone else around us has, you know? Two and a half kids, minivan, Labrador Retriever and a white picket fence," Catherine says, thinking to herself that she could never conform to that life with anyone else, now, but for her mother, it paints a pretty picture. "Weekends at the beach and holidays on some island paradise. Well, some other paradise, because you already live there. That's what I really wish for him and I hope he gets it. So stop talking about Steve and Hawai'i, stop talking about that life, it's not my life anymore. It's gone, it's not in my future, OK? The more you ask me about him, the harder it is for me. So, please, stop," she pleads, tired and sad.

However, her mother's curiosity is still not satisfied. "Did he ask you about your love life, in return, by any chance?" There will never be another opportunity as good and timely as this one.

Sighing, Catherine gives in. "Fine, I'll play. I guess your questions were inevitable, at some point. I should be surprised it took you this long. To answer your question, you know how that kind of talk goes, _'This is what's happening with me, how about you'?_ Just so he doesn't sound completely disinterested. I'm sure he just did it out of good breeding, social convention, whatever…"

\- "Of course…," Elizabeth replies, a knowing smile appearing on her lips. "And what did you tell him?

\- "I told him I was dating a little bit…" Catherine is past trying to end the conversation, so she just answers her mother, hoping the questions will end soon.

\- "And… are you?" This is news to her.

\- "Mom, really? No, but I wasn't going to tell him that."

\- "Why?"

\- "Because… he is dating this woman, and he was asking me _'what about you'_? I wasn't going to tell him that I hadn't dated since I'd left him! There was no point… he was going to feel sorry for me, I was going to feel pathetic and there was no need to compound the situation even further. It could become embarrassing and awkward. So… I answered vaguely."

\- "You lied."

\- "Mom, why this fixation on Steve? Leave the man alone! He's getting on with his life, so am I." Catherine is ready to put this conversation to bed. She's still mad at Steve, so he's the last person she wants occupying her mind, right now.

\- "Well, sweetheart, I'm just sorry that you two couldn't work out your differences. I really like Steve…"

\- "That's your problem, I guess," Catherine retorts, without thinking. Then, realising she's been rude to her mother, she concludes. "Mom, I don't want to talk about Steve anymore, OK? I need some sleep. Give my love to dad, I'll speak to you both tomorrow."

\- "OK, honey, talk to you tomorrow."

Disconnecting the call, Elizabeth Rollins moves from the library to the living room, where Steve is waiting for her. She's happy for the good news she has for him and not one bit sorry for going against her daughter's plead.

\- "Steve, I've just managed to get Catherine on the phone. Apparently she just got back this morning, and she's home. She sounds very tired, but I am sure she'd love to see you once again."

Steve sighs, not nearly as sure as Elizabeth Rollins, but relieved, nonetheless. If Catherine is home, her injuries can't be anything serious. Elizabeth Rollins moves to the table and scribbles down an address on a piece of paper, handing it to Steve. She smiles at him, a very warm and hopeful smile and says:

\- "Steve, may I ask, and forgive me for prying," she goes on, conspiratorially, "but are you here in a professional capacity?"

\- "No, not really, huh…" Steve says, caught off guard. "I was in New York, for a case, and just thought it would be nice to surprise her, that's all." He does manage a smile, however.

\- "Well, It's been lovely to see you, Steve. I am sure that, if my husband were here, he would be really happy to see you too. God speed, my son. See you soon, I hope", Elizabeth Rollins says, hugging him warmly. She is really not saying those word just for the sake of it.

\- "Good night, Mrs. Rollins. It's been lovely to see you and again, thank you for the big help. Give Admiral Rollins my regards," Steve says, as he hugs her back. He throws her a warm smile, picks up his overnight bag and heads for the door, closing it softly behind him. Easy part of his plan – done. Now comes the hard bit.


	34. Chapter 33

Outside, the rain has started to pour down from the tar-black sky, peppered with grey marshmallow storm clouds, wind howling around him. Steve decides to take cover under the building cornice, uncomfortable with the winter cold seeping into his bones and taking residence there. He's no stranger to these harsh conditions from his time in the Navy and SEALS, but it's been almost 9 years of a Hawai'i-tempered body and the bleak weather is definitely getting to him. It feels… biblically ominous, and images of deluges, flooding rivers and overflowing dams shoot to his mind, making him cringe at the possible associations. He feels totally out of place, here, and is suddenly overcome by an inexplicable sadness when thinking of her in this damp and cold city, realising that it has been her reality for the past 3 years – and that is, when she's safely home, in the States. To him, Catherine comes in two flavours: untouchable, with her Navy uniforms and hair buns (and more recently kickass spy, God knows in which terrorist-infested hellhole) or more-than-girlfriend with shorts, tank tops, sunshine, _leis_ and surf. And he much prefers all mental images associated with the latter. Breaking out of his reverie, Steve wraps his jacket around his torso and looks down the street, tentatively looking for a taxi. He's still debating, in his mind, whether or not he should just let Catherine have a good night's sleep, as from her mother's conversation, it sounds like she needs a rest.

"_She's tough_", he thinks to himself with a smile, dismissing the thought at last, remembering her annoyance when he doubted she would be able to lift herself out of the spike pit in Kaho'olawe. Steve feels incapable of going to sleep himself, knowing she's a stone's throw from him, and would probably just lie awake all night, mind populated with thoughts of her, eagerly anticipating their talk. He's surprised that none of the thoughts he's been having, regarding her, spurred him into action while they were alone in Montana – apparently he really is a one-track mind, compartmentalized kind of guy. Or slow-moving. At present, his desire to see her overwhelms him like an engine revved up while running still, becoming more and more urgent with each passing moment. He'd been magically waiting for her to come back 'home' of her own accord, for so long, Lynn forgotten, and suddenly that fantasy had shattered into a million pieces. Reality had slowly sunk in, while in Montana, but mainly Afghanistan, leading him to the present course of action, unable to control the thoughts coursing through his mind, of the last 10+ years of having known Catherine, Navy and beyond. Suddenly her job, up to that moment an abstract concept, had become real, and the dangers she was faced with every day had started to jolt his heart every time he thought about it.

Rushing down the stairs, rivulets of rain falling down his very short hair, Steve inwardly curses for never having installed the Uber app on his phone, not willing to go into that, at the present moment. Almost giddy with excitement, he quickens his pace, impatient to find a vehicle that can take him to the address scribbled down on the piece of paper he's fiercely holding on to. A few minutes later, a taxi suddenly appears down the dimly lit road, roof showered with rain, and he moves from the curb to hail it, feeling the rapid beating of his blood pressure reflected in his ears. Handing the piece of paper to the driver, Steve asks him how long the ride will take and leans back in the seat, closing his eyes, mentally preparing for what he wants to say to her. He's a proud man and has no desire to be rejected once again, but he must find out where he stands with her, so he can move his life forward, either way - that has become painfully clear to him. The month spent with her, in Montana, has awoken feelings deep within him and he's sure she was also affected by their close proximity, though she tried to hide them. He genuinely wonders why – does she love her job that much? Well, she did leave because of it. Does she have someone in her life? He doesn't even want to entertain that thought. If he's being honest with himself, he's nervous as hell. He doesn't know how to initiate the conversation with Catherine and has no idea how she is going to react at seeing him here, since he's not even supposed to know where she lives. And she was mad at him, before being sent home from Afghanistan, and he doesn't know why, but figures it's probably his fault. There's also that.

Suddenly, Steve feels the car come to a soft stop and realises he's been engrossed in his thoughts for the entire duration of the trip, rain managing to drown out the sounds coming from the car radio. The driver indicates to him that they have reached their destination, and he pays him promptly, exiting the cab, heart starting to pound loudly again. The rain sluices incessantly from the sky, joined in the dance by lightning, and Steve feels his heart constrict, crying for time lost, sadness overwhelming him. _'How fitting'_, he thinks, _'that you should be entering this unknown territory on a cold, rainy winter's night, and that you may leave with a broken heart, never to be mended again.'_ But by now, emboldened by the steps taken so far, Steve feels incapable of remaining in limbo and climbs the stairs, buzzing her apartment, a discharge of adrenaline jolting him.

The pavement has filled with puddles, plinking with the rain, and he sees a couple quickly running past, illuminated by the cone of light from a street lamp, arms around each other's waist trying to run for cover, umbrella open. He wonders if, in a few hours, he may himself be on the way to being one half of the same, or if, on the contrary, she may ask him to leave. He has never felt this much want for a woman in all his life, and the irony of the blatant difference between what he feels right now, for Catherine, and the deepest feelings he ever nurtured for Lynn, at the height of their relationship, doesn't escape his notice. His entire existence has been reduced down to this moment; nothing else matters if he cannot have this woman back in his life, eventually. He has a sense of finality, of doom, as if everything else in his life hinges on the outcome of what he came here to do; he knows, one way or another, his life will change for good, hopefully for the better. Suddenly, a thought comes to his mind, clear as day, making him smile – his life can be divided into two eras: BC and AC. Suddenly, out of the haze currently clouding his hearing, mind populated with random thoughts of her, he hears a small voice, coming through the intercom. Quickly composing himself, despite not recognizing it, at first, he answers with a firm and decisive voice.

\- "Catherine?"

He is unable to say any more, as the short taxi ride did not allow him time enough to think of what he should open with, so he just dry swallows and hopes she's more curious than mad and decides to let him through. A gasp can be heard.

\- "Steve?" Two seconds of silence follow. "Is that you?" Incredulous voice. Tired voice. He's probably one of the last people she expected to hear from, at this time of night, in person, outside of her apartment block.

Catherine says nothing more, and instead buzzes him in. Steve quickly opens the door and eagerly climbs the stairs to the third floor, failing to notice that there is an elevator that could easily take him there quicker. Then again, he's got plenty of energy to use up. Reaching his destination floor, he walks down the hall, in a mix of rush and delay, wanting to get to her quickly but also apprehensive at what she'll say and think of his unannounced presence. It's as though now that he's here, he wishes he could delay their encounter just a few minutes more, indefinitely. He's on edge, heart leaping in his chest, unsettled. It's not a feeling he experiences often, so it's leaving him uncomfortable.

Dismissing these thoughts, Steve picks up his pace, looking for that elusive apartment number. When he finally reaches it, the door is closed. He needs to knock, once again and he does so, quietly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, in a vain attempt at calming his now obvious nerves. After a few seconds, Catherine opens the door and looks directly at him, a mix of surprise and annoyance obvious on her face. Not exactly what Steve was waiting for, if he's being honest. She looks tired, but beautiful as always, he thinks, despite the leftovers of an angry bruise on her left forehead, the rest covered up by a large bandage. He wants to ask her about it, but quickly realises that he can't open with a question about the sensitive subject of what happened when he wasn't there. With a serious look on his face, he brushes his right hand across his drenched hair, looking down to the floor and then up at her again, eyes never wavering from hers.

\- "Hello, Catherine. I heard you'd been injured. I came to see how you were doing. Mind if I come in?" The obvious stab is there, but she doesn't let him bait her.

Catherine simply opens the door wider, waits for him to enter and closes the door behind his back, sighing. He turns around so they are face to face, and she fixes him with an unwavering stare, silent. Steve suddenly hears alarm bells ringing in his head, warning him that she may not be alone, but then thinks back to the conversation with her mother. He tells himself that if that were the case, Elizabeth Rollins would not have advised him to come to her daughter's house at 9 o'clock at night, instead of calling the next day and making an appointment to see her, somewhere in the city. Then again, he thinks, Catherine may very well have someone in her bed, at that moment, and simply not have shared that fact with her mother, but he quickly dismisses that thought, not wanting the pain associated with that possibility to shatter his heart. Her right hand reaches her hip and stays there, and she's obviously waiting for an explanation, but says nothing, face expressionless. Steve eyes her quizzically, knowing full well that she knows why he is here. But he's invading her space, right now, so he needs to be careful how he words his concerns.

\- "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this at your door, unannounced and at this hour. How are you feeling?"

\- "You came all this way to ask me how I'm feeling?" she says, now genuinely surprised.

\- "Actually, I came all this way to find out if you were still alive," and his sentence has the desired effect. Catherine's eyes dart to his and she blushes in embarrassment. "I was told you'd been injured in Khayfan and sent back to the States that same morning. No one else was willing to give me any other detail on what had happened or how you were. You didn't even send me a text, to let me know you were OK. You ran away, basically," he replies, eyeing her carefully. "I know you were pissed off at me because of what happened the night before, Catherine, but this was life and death. Have you any idea how I felt, at that moment? The thoughts running around in my head in the last… twelve hours?"

\- "Steve, look," Catherine starts in a half-pleading voice, finally realising what she's done. "We got some intel on Ahmed Zahed and we had to move. You were in with Captain Hamilton, so we decided to go without you. We figured we might lose our chance if we didn't move immediately. And it was a good thing we did, because he was getting ready to run. So now that you have your man, you can go back home." Whispering to herself, she adds, in a plea, "Please, go back home."

\- "You're crazy if you think that I came all this way to… what? Ask you for a justification on why you decided to move on Zahed?" he says, getting annoyed, raising his arm and pointing away from him. "One thing is the job – and I fully trust you to make the best decisions for the good of the Country, Catherine! But that's not what I'm talking about, here, and you know damn well it's not."

Sighing at being emptied of reason, her own anger forgotten, Catherine tries to placate him. "Steve, I was ordered back to the States that morning…. I had no choice, but to come." She knows, however, that her explanation doesn't invalidate a quick, ten second text that she should've sent him, but didn't. At the time, her anger had spoken louder, but she now realises that she was not only childish, but also mean. And he doesn't let it pass.

\- "Orders, right," he huffs, sarcastically. Then, looking her straight in the eye, he goes on. "Captain Hamilton told me you asked to be sent home, even though you could've been treated at the base, Catherine! So you were alert, you could've remembered to ask Morrison to let me know what had happened. Or left me a note! Sent me a text? You haven't lost my number, have you?" He knows he's being sarcastic, but he has finally seen for himself that she is apparently OK, so his relief is translated into a succession of angry questions and reproaches.

\- "Sorry", she says, looking down, not offering any more excuses. He knows she's deflecting, but lets it go, anger quickly fading.

\- "Are you alone?" he finally asks, remembering what he came here to do. He needs to move the conversation in the other direction.

Eyeing him up and down suspiciously, she asks, starting to feel a slight panic. "Is something the matter? Did something else happen?"

Steve is quick to dismiss thoughts of any fallback from the op. "No, no, sorry for alarming you, nothing happened, relax. We questioned Zahed and he's being brought back to Hawai'i, where he'll face charges, but Al-Nazri is still in the wind, unfortunately. The Navy and the CIA both feel that it'll take him some time to resurface again, so there was no point in me staying. I'm headed back home." Then, he asks again.

\- "Are you alone?" Before she can answer, he hears voices and the clatter of cutlery that he'd been deaf to, before.

\- "No, Steve, I have some friends over for dinner," she replies, a laugh mixed with an exhaling breath of relief, still unable to fully relax at his assurance. "Why are you here, then? More to the point, how are you here? How did you know where I... oh, wait. My mother. Right."

Catherine slowly moves away from Steve, hissing slightly in pain at the movement, sardonic smile in place and closes her eyes, trying to keep her anger under check. Her mother! Not only had she put her in her present situation, awkward at best, but she had also grilled her about her love life for over half an hour on the phone. Now, she understood why. Clouded by her rising rage, she starts to slowly pace the corridor, breathing in deeply. Suddenly, Steve touches her arm and looks pointedly at her, breaking her out of her daze.

\- "Cath, please, don't be mad at her. I called her yesterday, from a base literally in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and told her I needed to see you."

\- "Just like that, huh?" She's not surprised that her mother likes this man so much. So does she.

\- "No, not just like that," Steve says, smiling, understanding her reaction completely. "I made sure not to tell her anything that happened and where it happened, relax. Told her I was in New York, for work, and would really love to catch up. You know she really likes me," he says, smug, but playful.

\- "Right... perfect!" she replies, not amused in the slightest, brows rising and her bruise getting angrier.

\- "Come on, Cath, it's not as if I don't have a high security clearance... according to the US Navy, I can be trusted," Steve says, trying to lighten the mood.

\- "To know where I live? I should expect not! You're Navy, this is the CIA!" Catherine replies, visibly annoyed. "Besides, why not call me?"

\- "Like I said, I wanted to _see_ you. Make sure you were all right. I wasn't even sure you'd answer my call! Why are you so angry, anyway? Is it at my knowing where you live, or at my being here? Right in front of you?"

The question takes Catherine by surprise, and she gasps at how accurate his assessment is, realising that she is indeed shaken by his presence. She just hopes that _'checking in on her'_ was his only reason for coming over, tonight. Suddenly, Catherine remembers that she has friends sitting down at her dinner table and turns to Steve, matter-of-factly:

\- "Don't be silly, Steve! Look, just go drop your bag inside and I'll introduce you to my friends. We can talk later," she says, dismissing him and turning towards the living room, walking slowly and alternating her weight on each foot, as though in pain.

\- "How many stitches?" he asks, with a sad voice.

Catherine freezes in place, taking a second to compose herself. The last thing she wants is to appear weak or feeble to this man.

\- "What, this?" she asks, turning around and pointing to her forehead. "It's just a bruise, nothing much," she hopes to put the matter to rest, smiling at him and dismissing his worry with a flick of the hand.

\- "Cath…" Steve fixates his eyes on her, never wavering.

\- "Five," she finally lets up, defeated, looking down at the floor. "I should've known I can't get anything past you."

\- "And the hip?" he asks, voice level, no hint of smugness or annoyance.

\- "What do you mean?" Catherine asks, raising her eyebrows, hoping she can pretend her way out of having to catalogue her latest injuries to him.

\- "I mean… what about the hip? Cuts, gashes, bruises, bullet holes, stiches?" he says, breathing out slowly, thinking back to Montana with a smile, praying she doesn't try to be strong for his viewing pleasure.

\- "How did you…?" Catherine says, genuinely surprised, pushing her head forward and hunching her eyebrows at him.

\- "I know you, remember? I know how you walk, move, breathe, talk… and I can tell something is definitely not right with you. So, I'll ask again: how many stitches?"

\- "No stiches," she says plainly, happy to be able to be truthful. "We ran into some enemy fire that morning, and things got slightly out of hand. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, that's all…"

While she talks, Steve closes his eyes and breathes deeply, not wanting to look at her while he imagines how that op could've gone sideways and she might not even be here in front of him, right now, to enumerate stitches.

\- "Anything else?" he asks, almost not letting her finish her account, finally looking back at her, starting to feel annoyed.

\- "It's part of the job, Steve. I'm fine. I'm home, now, so I'll have time to recover."

\- "Any more stitches?" he asks again, ignoring her.

\- "No, no more stitches. Just got thrown around a bit and my left hip is a bit bruised, that's all," Catherine replies lightly, trying to not make it into a big issue, for his sake. She knows he can't help but worry, after all they're friends. She's just not sure what kind, at this point. Turning away from him again, she repeats her invitation:

\- "Come on, just go freshen up and come into the dining room. I'll introduce you."

\- "OK, thanks," he says, deciding to let it go, for now and smiling at her back, thankful that he'll at least have a chance to explain himself as to the reasons that brought him here tonight.

After dropping off his overnight bag and wet coat in the first room he can find off the main corridor, Steve dries his hair and retraces his steps, following the noises he can hear coming from the dining room. The warmth in her apartment and the dimly lit corridor and entrance hall are in stark contrast to the cold, dark street below, appealing to his senses and he starts to feel less like a defrosting icicle and more like a consoled, albeit tired traveler who's reached shelter. The flat is typical Catherine: comfortable, modern and with an edge of something he can't quite define. He immediately feels at home.

There are five people sitting at the table; a woman Catherine's age, another, older woman, a man his age, a man probably 5 years younger and an older man. They are all talking animatedly, laughing and very relaxed, but Steve's arrival silences them. Coming from the kitchen with a place setting in her hands, Catherine turns to the assembly, while busying herself with laying the plate down and setting the cutlery, motioning for him to sit down.

\- "Everyone, this is Steve. We go way back, from my Navy days. Steve, this is Melissa," she says, pointing to the woman her age, sitting to her left. "And this is her friend, Dave," she says, motioning to her right, to the guy his age. "These are Marc and Johanna," she motions to the older couple sitting next to Dave, "and this is Brian," she says, smiling at the younger guy sitting next to Melissa. While everyone greets Steve with a "hi", or "hello", Brian extends his hand to Steve with a sultry "why, hello, handsome" and a sunny smile, eliciting a laugh from everyone at the table. Steve really doesn't know how to react, but extends his hand to Brian, briefly, while smiling at the others, sitting down to eat at the place left vacant by Melissa, who moves to Brian's place, after he moved left as well. The flow of conversation is somewhat resumed, but curiosity has piqued Melissa's attention, and she goes in for the kill. Throwing Catherine a naughty smile, she turns to Steve.

\- "So, Mr. Navy man, how do you know our girl? Pray, do tell," she says smiling, looking between the two, clearly amused at Catherine's rushed and nervous demeanor, busy with such mundane things as setting cutlery down on the table and averting her gaze.

\- "We met when we were in the Navy. We served together," Steve answers, trying to detract attention from himself all the while sharing as little as he can, hoping his explanation will be enough. But Melissa is undeterred.

\- "Oh, I'm going to need details," she says, laughing at his embarrassment.

\- "We worked together for Navy Intelligence, we became friends then. We've been friends ever since," Steve replies, eyeing Catherine firmly and seriously, letting her know he noticed her description of their relationship sorely lacking in accuracy. She looks at him and smiles warmly, confirming his description.

\- "Oh, we are going to want to know many embarrassing and funny stories about our Kit Cat, here," Brian interjects, getting up and coming towards Catherine, hugging her and laughing openly. "She never shares any details of her previous life, and this is as good an opportunity as we'll ever get," he finishes, looking pointedly at Steve.

Everyone breaks into laughter at Brian's antics and they decide to give the newcomer a break, not noticing the fleeting look of sadness that crosses Steve's face at the "previous life" reference. Conversation breaks into smaller groups as everyone eats and it falls on Melissa to keep talking to Steve, while Catherine's attention is diverted to Dave. Steve senses that they haven't known each other long, and that this guy is very interested in Catherine. He smiles at her, smirks and lightly touches her arm while telling her about his job, something to do with travel. Melissa is also trying to engage Steve in conversation and he answers her with as much politeness as he can muster, all the while trying to listen in on Catherine's conversation. Suddenly, Dave says something that catches Brian's attention and he addresses him, slight amusement in his voice.

\- "What do you mean, Dave, you're a pacifist?"

\- "I mean I don't believe that the way to achieve peace is through war, that's all," Dave replies, throwing a smug smile Catherine's way.

\- "So how do we do it?" Brian says, clearly amused at the hole Melissa's friend is digging for himself. They all serve, one way or another, so Dave's sentence is almost offensive for him.

\- "Diplomacy, understanding the other side's position, trying to reach a middle ground, a consensus…" Dave replies, now serious. "Going to war to achieve peace is…. It's crazy. And in between, many innocent lives are lost."

\- "And meanwhile… while we can't get the other side to understand us, our point of view… while you have fanatics and fundamentalists unwilling to listen to reason… You what? Let your own people die at their hands?" Steve says, very serious, quieting everyone's conversations. Suddenly, the light tone of the exchange of opinions turns heavy as Steve's piercing glance falls on Dave, while he awaits an answer. The thirteen dead, in Hawai'i, come to his mind.

\- "That's not what I meant," Dave says, clearly uneasy, looking at Steve, trying to lessen the impact of his sentence. "I just meant that war is never the answer."

\- "Well, you know, that is a lovely sentence to print on a t-shirt, and we can all try to ride our unicorns to work – doesn't mean we'll be able to. Of course it's a huge shame that people have to go to war, but many times, it's the only way to protect those same innocent souls you mention," Steve finishes, shrugging his right shoulder and raising his eyebrows, conveying that he's not being confrontational.

Brian can tell that Dave has been properly made ashamed of, with his stupid platitudes, and decides to throw him a bone, after glancing at Catherine and realising she's no longer happy at the direction the conversation is headed. He asks Dave to tell the assembled company about his job and the most interesting countries he's ever visited, smiling wickedly at Catherine, who smiles back at him with a shake of the head.

-"Well, I propose a toast to our girl," Brian says, raising his glass. "May she stay home long, may she recover quickly, and we all love you, Kit Cat."

They all raise their glasses, toasting to Brian's words, and Steve can't help notice that Catherine does not drink after raising her glass. Knowing her not to be a teetotaler, he realises she's probably still on antibiotics for her stitches. He wonders if the case wasn't more serious that she let on. He'll have to investigate further, later.

\- "Thank you all, you're all very kind. Thanks also for showing up unannounced at my door tonight, when I was getting ready to… get a Catnap, appropriately," Catherine says, laughing. "Anyway, I had made a date with my pillow, my comforter and my TV, but I much prefer ditching them in favour of being with you guys…" she says, smiling.

Melissa throws her a kiss and says, playfully:

\- "Well, this is all Brian's fault. He doesn't really like Morpheus …"

\- "Of course, it's all Brian's fault. Just because he doesn't sleep, it doesn't mean I don't need to," Catherine says, smiling at her friends, engaging in their usual banter.

Everyone laughs at her, and suddenly Catherine's eyes land on Steve's slightly surprised look. She smiles at him and gets up to take her wine-filled glass into the kitchen. Her emotions are overwhelming her, unable to cope with Steve's sudden presence in this part of her world. It isn't enough that Melissa brought her friend, Dave, to dinner, she thinks, but it had to be on the same night that Steve decides to show up, unannounced, out of nowhere. Her emotions are raw, right now and she needs to get a grip, or else everyone will know something is up. Especially Steve, and she does not want that.

Melissa follows her into the kitchen, roasting dish in hand, and eyes her cautiously, sensing that something is up with her friend, sure that it has something to do with the handsome stranger sitting next to her at the table. Catherine is leaning heavily against the counter, breathing deeply, eyes closed, oblivious to the other presence in her kitchen. Melissa decides to lighten the mood with a little humor, determined to extract any and all information from her friend, not noticing that Steve has followed her into the corridor and is moving towards the kitchen, behind her.

\- "Who is that hot piece of man candy you've got sitting next to me at the table, girl? Where have you been hiding him?" she says, smiling, walking past Catherine, who suddenly opens her eyes, startled, but thankful for the interruption to her dangerous thoughts.

\- "Down, girl, don't get excited, he's taken," Catherine laughs at her friend. "Remember I told you about a guy I used to date, lives in Hawai'i, met him when I was in the Navy?" she says nonchalantly, trying not to elaborate too much. Thinking about her past life, that by now feels so remote, still gives her pangs of heartache that she prefers not to remember. While listening to her, Steve can't help but feel small at her résumé of their life together, at how easily she summed up their relationship of so many years.

\- "Wasn't that the one who died?" Melissa asks, eyes wide, uncomprehending.

\- "No, that was Billy. He wasn't from Hawai'i. Steve is."

\- "Well? You never told me about him. I wonder why..." Listening to her, Steve also wonders why and he feels slightly offended by that realization. Had he been so easily discarded, that Catherine had erased him from her memories as soon as she had left?

\- "Nothing to tell," She says, shrugging. "We used to date, we don't, anymore. It was before your time…"

\- "Oh, girlfriend, don't imagine, for a moment, that you're going to get away with that reply, after what I saw in there. I want details. Many, many details. Juicy details," she says, naughty smile in place.

\- "No, no details, please," Catherine says, laughing, hand in the air and mock-pleading, "that part of my life is in the past, so I really don't want to go there. We're just friends."

\- "In the past? Are you sure? Because that gorgeous, charming, 'Captain America' guy sitting at your dinner table clearly still has feelings for you," she goes on, eyebrows knitted, thumb pointed outwards. "The way he's been looking at you, all night… it's like he wants to clear the table with a sweep of the hand and lay you down on it, without even making sure we're gone. Not to mention the murderous looks he's been sending Dave's way and how much he's ignored me all night," Melissa says, serious. "By the way, I totally forgive him for stuffing it to Dave, he can be such a jerk, sometimes…"

\- "And this is the friend you wanted me to meet?" Catherine, says, laughing good naturedly. This knowledge makes Steve's heart skip a beat, not wanting to contemplate the implications of her statement. He's also impressed by how incisive Melissa is and embarrassed at how obvious he apparently was. He has no game.

\- "He's a nice guy, a really nice guy. But if he feels threatened… he obviously will try to clumsily retaliate," Melissa laughs at the thought.

\- "Threatened? By whom?" Catherine asks, genuinely surprised at her friend's assertion.

\- "Jesse Ventura over there?" she motions in the direction of the living room, again with her thumb, clearly amused.

\- "You're imagining things, Melissa. We're just friends. And even that was not a given, for a long time after I left. Let's just leave it at that," Catherine finishes, by now almost sure that what happened in Afghanistan was a figment of her own imagination.

\- "Fine, I'll pretend I am leaving it at that. But we will revisit this conversation later, you're not getting off that easy," Melissa says, laughing at Catherine's embarrassed look.

\- "Nothing to talk about, my friend," Catherine dismisses her, wondering if she'll be able to dismiss Steve as easily as she's trying to dismiss her friend.

\- "You keep telling yourself that," Melissa says, laughing.

Suddenly, Brian's slightly inebriated, loud voice can be heard from the living room.

\- "Hey, girls, where u at? We're feeling very loooonely in here…!"

Startled, Steve turns back and returns to the living room, not wanting Catherine to realise that he has heard the girls' conversation. He is deep in thought as he sits back down, throwing the assembled company a quick smile while trying to reign in his feelings and thoughts.

\- "We'll be right out! Let me just heat up the sauce for the dessert," Catherine says, turning to Melissa, smiling. Brian's impatience is legendary. Melissa quickly gets back to the conversation at hand.

\- "So… what did you mean by 'he's taken?'" She presses on, curious.

\- "He has a girlfriend…? They started dating a few months after I left," Catherine says, sad, her mind wandering back to that fateful day, on Steve's porch. She can still remember what she was wearing, the feel of the sun burning her skin, the smell of his cologne as he hugged her, the sting of the tears falling down her cheeks as the car moved away. It was definitely the hardest thing she's ever done in her life.

\- "Why **did** you leave?" Melissa asks, now serious, aware of Catherine's change of demeanor. "Did you… stop loving him? Did he do something that made you want to leave?"

\- "Stop loving him?" Catherine suddenly looks directly at Melissa, huffing ironically. "That would be an impossibility. I will always love that man, one way or another…" Catherine lowers her voice, pensive, feeling a rush of adrenaline flood her system at knowing that the man she's talking about is not thousands of miles away in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but across the hall and she doesn't know what he's doing here. She closes her eyes, trying to regain her bearings and makes a decision. "Look, M, I really can't go into that right now, OK? Everyone is expecting us back and I can't be dredging all this up again with Steve so close. It will throw me off balance, do you understand? I'm pretty shook up as it is…" Catherine says, hands shaking, eyes on the brink of tears.

\- "C, I've never seen you so emotional! Are you OK? I'm sorry I brought it up… it's just that I'm actually surprised, since I've never really seen you interested in a guy… wow, now I get it," Melissa says, looking at Catherine and feeling sorry for her friend. She is just getting a glimpse of the whirlwind of emotions that Catherine is trying to process and realises that this story not only has plenty to tell, but is also far from over.

Suddenly, Melissa makes a decision and grabs a disoriented Catherine by the arm, pulling her out of the kitchen and into the corridor, in the direction of her room. She yells a very carefree "Bri, we'll be right back! Sauce is in the microwave!" and pushes her friend into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Catherine is surprised by her friend's action but lets herself be driven, overwhelmed by the memories flooding her. She sits down on the bed and lowers her head, closing her eyes, breathing deeply. Melissa gives her a few seconds to compose herself and decides to wait for more details, as she can tell that Catherine is struggling. She sits down next to her friend on the bed and grabs her hand, in a show of support.

\- "Steve showing up at my door, tonight, was the last thing I ever expected to happen. He called me to come help with an op, that's where I went last month. A very good friend of ours was killed, like a second father, to him. We were together on his ranch, in Montana, for almost a month, then we went to Laos and China. He was grieving, but there were moments, you know… moments when I wondered why I had decided to leave the way I did, when I remembered why I loved him so much, because he is so easy to love… and so hard, at the same time," Catherine says, smiling at the reminiscence. "When I went to Afghanistan, last week, he was there, for a retrieval mission, and the Navy asked for our help, so we ended up working together again. And now I am back here, hoping he leaves soon. Back to his island, to his job, to his Ohana, to his girlfriend."

With a contrite face, Melissa goes on. "Sorry for telling you this, my friend, but I think his reason is obvious, especially since you two were together a week ago. Why else would he be here?"

Catherine lowers her head again, wincing. "Well, I did disappear from the base without so much as a text. Apparently, no one told him what had happened to me, so he came over to make sure I was still alive. His words."

\- "Ouch! You did what? Left him wondering if you were even still alive?"

\- "I was angry at him."

\- "Why? Seems to me he is the one with a reason to be angry. You're friends, after all, right? It's only natural he should worry…"

\- "He came to my room, the night before, and tried to kiss me. I just sat there, stupefied, wondering how such a decent guy could do that."

\- "What? Try to kiss you? Oh, the bastard! How could he?" Melissa satirizes, laughing, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation.

\- "Would you like to be kissed by a guy you know has a girlfriend? Whom he's living with?"

Melissa eyes Catherine seriously, thinking. "How do you know he's still with her?"

Catherine sighs again, feeling her insides hurt. "I just know, OK?"

\- "How? Maybe they broke up."

\- "Look, M, I haven't spoken to anyone of this, not even my own mother, who grilled me about Steve this afternoon…," Catherine confesses, looking pleadingly at Melissa. "But when I was in Montana, and two days before we went over to Laos, to complete the assignment, his best friend showed up."

\- "Go on…" Melissa hesitatingly encourages her friend, sensing she won't like the next few sentences to come out of her mouth.

\- "I've known him almost from the first day he set foot on the island. We worked together at 5-0. We were really good friends. But one day, after I had been away for a year, trying to find that little boy whose family saved me from the Taliban…"

\- "I remember the story, go on…."

\- "Well, I went back to Hawai'i, for a friend's wedding, fellow 5-0. And Danny – that's the guy's name, by the way – called and asked to meet me, without Steve knowing. He basically told me that Steve was a much happier person when I was around, and asked me not to leave, again."

\- "And you did, so I assume you told him so?"

\- "No, I was evasive. Very," Catherine cringes again, looking at her friend. "I told him there was nothing I wanted more. And the days went by, and Steve never found time to sit down and talk to me. And one afternoon, the call came. I was in an impossible situation, but I had committed to the CIA. So I left."

\- "Come on, Catherine! It's your life, you owe him nothing."

\- "He doesn't seem to think so. We didn't see each other for another 2 years after that, so when he showed up in Montana, I really didn't know what to expect."

\- "And…?" Melissa is on tenterhooks.

\- "It was as bad as I had expected," Catherine says, closing her eyes, remembering. "He wasn't at all happy to see me. Gave me the cold shoulder, almost ignored me and blamed me for Steve wanting to go out to Laos. He mentioned the talk we had, so I know he was still angry at that, too, but merely from a perspective of _'the liar'_. Then he told me, flat out, that he really wished I hadn't come to help. He said that, after a long time, Steve had finally managed to pull himself back together and that he was happy, these days, with his job, his Ohana, and his girlfriend. Told me they were living together and that he hoped Steve would propose, soon, so there was no room for me, in his life. Not even as a friend."

Melissa sits down on the bed, mouth agape. All she can utter is a surprised "Wow," contemplating what Catherine has just told her. "So… he… but…"

\- "Yeah, leaves you wondering, right? What the hell is he doing here?"

\- "C, come on. You guys are clearly friends, no matter what this Danny character says…" Melissa is trying to rewrite the narrative in her head, given what she just witnessed, since Steve's arrival. "Though I have to say, that's not the vibe I'm getting, from him…"

\- "Regardless… he knows, Steve knows that I would never put myself between a couple. It's not my style. Besides, there were reasons for our breakup, reasons why I left in the first place."

\- "And if he wasn't dating her anymore? What then? People break up all the time, you know…"

\- "If 'ifs' and 'buts', Melissa… They've been together for three years, now, and Steve is not the type of guy to make rash decisions. They're still together, I'm sure. So this conversation is pointless."

\- "Catherine... are you actually convinced that they're still together, or are you actually hoping it? Because the way you keep telling me that he's still with her, almost sounds like you want it to be so... what for? So you don't fall into temptation? Because that would open up a new world of possibilities that you have denied yourself for over 2 years? Or because that would mean you having to make a difficult decision regarding your job?"

\- "No, that's not what's happened here. The decision to leave was mine."

\- "Why? You clearly loved him a lot…"

\- "He never made time for us, his job was all consuming. 'Job first, everything else, second'. Not what a girl wants to feel, right? He's an Alpha Male, SEAL, Navy Intelligence, but he never once told me he loved me to my face. Not once." At this, Melissa shows her surprise again. "We never talked about the future, not even after I resigned my commission with the Navy and moved in with him. You know, Military mentality, I guess we took the 'don't ask, don't tell' to a whole new level. I felt lost after Billy died, without direction and no one could help me make sense of what was to come. When I decided I had to go rescue Najib, he came with me. He was almost killed, my fault, and was shipped back to the States," Catherine says, hands shaking. Melissa holds them, giving her strength to continue. "I was persuaded by the CIA to save his six, if you get my meaning," she says, making air quotes. "They recruited me then. I was under strict orders not to tell him, so I stayed behind. A year later, when I returned, he was still single, waiting for me. He thought I was back, I knew I had to leave again. He told me he couldn't wait for me anymore, if I left. I did. He was angry at me for a long, long time, he's got issues. Trust issues. Mommy issues. Commitment issues. And I hurt him. Bad. Next time I went back, to help save his mother's life, he actually introduced me to the girlfriend. I'll never forget the angry look on his face, never expected it to hurt so much. I pretended I was fine, but you can imagine how I felt…"

\- "My God, so you both hurt each other…"

\- "And from that moment on, my job was all I had left. He was gone. In my mind, they were good for each other, I really wished them the best, because he's a very good man and he deserves to be happy. So what was left, for me? Work. I threw myself at it with all my strength. And here we are," Catherine finishes, physically drained from the short summary of her love life of the past 10 years.

\- "Catherine, when I met you, I couldn't understand why you were so driven in your job and kept refusing to even look at men. Now, I understand why. You feel guilty for leaving, but you also still love the man you left behind, who is now living with someone else. You're in an impossible position, suffering for love. And the best policy is to ignore the ache and keep going, as though that part of your life is closed for business. But guess what - it just popped up in Technicolor, at your door, and you'll have to deal with it soon. Very soon. As soon as we all leave, soon. I can't shake the feeling that he's not here merely to make sure you're still in one piece."

Getting up, impatient, Catherine turns away from her friend. "Stop it, Melissa, please, you're making me even more nervous. I don't want to dwell on it, we're just friends, now. We managed to carve this friendship out of the rubble of our past relationship, and it took time, let me tell you. He's happy, now, with his girlfriend and his Ohana, who must love her to death, because they sure as hell don't like me. So all's well, as it should be," she finishes, bitter tone to her words.

\- "You keep telling yourself that. But I'm telling you - that man, sitting at your table, in your living room, is here for a lot more than a simple 'hello, how are you doing, let's catch up?' Otherwise, why would he have come knocking on your door, alone, this late, no advance warning?", Melissa says, lowering her voice and getting serious. "If he's as honourable as you say, something else must be going on. And he can't be that angry, if he called you, of all people, to come help him avenge your friend's death. Don't you get it? It's obvious he's here for you. And if he came all the way from Afghanistan, it must be something important."

Catherine mulls over her friend's words, deep in thought. "Anyway, let me just navigate this dinner, find out what he's here for and be done with it. My head's spinning and I have a feeling it has a lot to do with my sleep deprivation mixed in with my pain meds," Catherine replies, getting up and throwing Melissa a pleading look.

\- "Oh, girl, I hear you, but the heart wants what the heart wants, you know?" Melissa says, feeling sorry for her friend. "And I'll tell you what, I really hope that's what he's doing here. You, my friend, deserve to be happy. You're the best person I have ever known and I really hope the two of you can sort out your issues. So I can finally see what my very good friend Catherine looks like when she's genuinely happy."

\- "Melissa, I live here, now, and I have a job that I really love. There's no question of us getting back together."

\- "Oh, sure, given a choice between living in paradise with a man you love to death - and working there - and living alone, going on black cover ops to flush out terrorists... yeah, really, there's a lot to think about! You just don't want to allow yourself to dream of a life with him!" Melissa says, irony plastered across her face.

\- "There is no 'life with him'. There is no dream. I hurt him. Bad. I broke his trust. Regardless of my reasons. With Steve, you don't come back from that. I wouldn't know how to. That shadow would always be there, between us. And it's not just that. He doesn't trust me, so building a life with someone on those terms... unthinkable," Catherine sadly shakes her head. "Besides, I've been in this situation before – living with him and not knowing what to do for work. It was horrible, let me tell you. I need a challenging job to feel needed, useful. Without it, I become a nothingness and am not fun to be around."

\- "Love conquers all, my friend… even stubborn, non-communicative Navy SEALs, you know? I'll bet you'd rethink your decision if he told you he loves you and you're the only woman he wants in his life, huh? Regarding what you do, now … it's a very dangerous job, which you've been doing very well, for the longest time. It's high time you let someone else do it and go find your happiness, however sad that would make me. Don't tell me there isn't a job in the whole of Hawai'i that you could do? Come on… You deserve it, think about what I'm telling you. Hear him out. Please."

With her plead, Melissa heads for the door and exits the room, leaving Catherine inside, digesting her last words. A few seconds later, they both sit back down at the table, Catherine hardly managing to stifle a yawn. She apologises and smiles, feeling tired to the bone, glad she can use it as an excuse for the time they were away. Brian wraps his arm around her shoulders, eyeing Steve with a quizzical, but amused look.

\- "Hey," he says, smiling at her, "you look really tired. Maybe we should go and let you sleep – after we've finished our dessert, that is."

\- "Funny... I told you, Bri, when you showed up, it's a miracle I'm still standing," she replies, smiling wide, knowing that her friends will not take it the wrong way.

\- "Come on, Kit Cat, we haven't seen you in almost 2 months! You were away, doing God knows what secret mission for a month, then you came home only to leave again on an op…. we missed you!" Brian replies, with a whiney voice, amused.

\- "Yes, Bri, but I've slept, like, 6 hours in three whole days." At her admission, Steve raises his eyes to her, remembering. "I'm dead to the world, I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'm not even listening to what you're saying anymore," she continues, amused, dismissing him with her hand.

\- "Yeah, yeah, we all get the hint." He lowers his voice, down to a conspiratorial tone. "You want to be left alone with James Bond, over there," he whispers in her ear, winking, clearly amused at her nervousness, unaware of their history. "Poor Dave, never stood a chance. Such bad timing…" he tsks, smiling openly. "I'm going to want to know the whole story tomorrow, you hear?"


	35. Chapter 34

Half an hour later, all her invited guests get up to say goodbye and put on their coats to leave. Dave thanks her for her hospitality and asks if she'd like to meet up for coffee soon. Catherine politely thanks him for his presence and agrees, smiling lightly, without giving his invitation much thought, mind occupied on other matters. Next up is Melissa, and as she hugs Catherine, she whispers in her ear: "I hope and pray that you won't get **any** sleep tonight. Any at all. And that that Greek God sweeps you off your feet and reminds you of what it feels like to be loved. And sexed up, too, of course. You clearly need it. And I'm pretty sure that male specimen out there never disappoints. Bye!" And she laughs openly, not waiting for her friend's reaction before heading out the door. Catherine dismisses Melissa with an amused shake of the head, happy that no one else heard her. After bidding the others goodbye, she heads for the dining room and finds Steve clearing the table. She eyes him with a smile and throws him a look of disbelief.

"Steve, you don't have to do that. Just leave it, I'll clean up tomorrow."

"You know I would never, Cath. It's no trouble at all," he says, smiling reassuringly at her, picking up a few items from the table.

Catherine's phone suddenly rings. She looks at it with an amused look and picks it up from the dinner table, not before Steve manages to take a peek at the caller ID, curiosity piqued. The caller display reads 'Mark W'. _'This should be interesting'_, he thinks, another pang of jealousy attacking him. Catherine answers the call with a warm voice, excusing herself to the hallway, but stays within Steve's earshot. Feeling very curious about her life and friends, now, he walks past her into the kitchen and drops the dishes in the sink, half-heartedly trying not to listen in on the conversation. He wonders if it is work-related or of another nature, which he prefers not to think about, as he turns off the kitchen lights and quickly returns to the living room, to wait for her to finish the call.

"Hey, Mark. (…)

"No, I just got back. (…)

"I'm fine, just a few stitches and a bruise. (…)

"Yes, they checked me out as soon as I got back. (…)

"You know, the usual… painkillers and antibiotics for 7 days. (…)

"Yeah, I have a few days off, thank God. I feel like I've been run over by a truck, I haven't slept much in recent days, and some friends showed up at my place tonight, so I am dead. (…)

"They just left. (…)

"No, Mark, you're not coming over, I'm asleep already _(she chuckles)_. (…)

"If you show up, I know I won't get to bed until much later and I need to sleep. Desperately. (…)

"Yes, I am going to bed, I'm not even thinking straight anymore _(she giggles)._ (…)

"No, Mark, alone. Very alone. I'm so tired, right now, I'd sleep straight through an earthquake, believe me. (…)

"You're too much, you know that? You need to go find a woman your age to date, no more coeds to snuggle up with, please, and stop talking silly. (…)

"Yeah, well, you've always known I was unavailable, so no surprises there. _(more giggles)_ (...)

"Speak to you tomorrow. (…)

"Bye, sweet chops. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite. (…)

"Bye. Love you"

Listening to her, Steve senses that Catherine's voice sounds different, mellower. Sweeter. Like the voice she used to reserve for him, when they were together. That thought makes him sick and sad at the same time, as he comes to another realisation: she has carved a life for herself, away from Hawai'i and, most importantly, from him, with friends and the semblance of an Ohana. He's suddenly afraid that what he feels for her will now never be enough to get her to go back to a life with him, and the look on his face turns bitter. Catherine disconnects the call and enters the living room, addressing her uninvited guest.

"Look, Steve, it's really late and you brought a bag, so you're clearly here for the night. Stay. Guest room is on the right. We can talk tomorrow."

Catherine is not sure how to act around Steve, now that they've been left alone. Suddenly, Montana and the familiarity that they struck up – again, after so long – is gone. It's as though they were artificially protected by a cloak of tragedy, compelling them into 'easy mission mode', without room for any other thoughts or feelings, and now that that is apparently gone, the deeper issues that they never addressed, by an unspoken mutual decision, are starting to rear their ugly heads, leaving her uncomfortable. Melissa's words are also echoing in her mind, making her feel embarrassed at the prospect that they may be true, not even able to admit that possibility. Right now, she's no longer tired or sleepy, just beginning to get really nervous. She wonders how she's going to navigate Steve's presence in her flat, and his reason for coming, and she needs to be alone to make sense of her feelings and what she wants, but most importantly, doesn't want, to tell him. To top it all off, Madama Butterfly suddenly comes up, on the airwaves. How fitting.

"Are you sure Dave won't mind? He was really looking back, to make sure I left, too," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but surprised at the tone of jealousy clearly evident in his voice.

"What? I've only just met the guy, why would he… Anyway, why did you feel the need to be confrontational, huh?" she throws at him, annoyed at his inference.

"Confrontational? I wasn't about to let him talk shit like that and keep quiet! Besides, I think I did a pretty good job of controlling myself, after all, this is not my home. He was an idiot."

"Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, I enjoyed his company?" And now anger is evident in her voice. There is a tiny part of her that feels a secret satisfaction at being able to give him a little taste of his own medicine, regarding his gelid welcome, the first time she'd been back on the island, after his ultimatum.

"Are you kidding me? That guy is a civilian! He has no clue about military life or even what it's like to be us... to make the sacrifices we made and continue to make," he goes on, undeterred.

"Maybe that's what I need, ever think of that?" she asks, looking him dead in the eye.

"What do you mean?" He really is stumped.

"A normal, available, regular guy, with a 9-5 job, a mobile phone that rings during office hours only, uncomplicated and capable of talking about his emotions and what he wants out of a woman, willing to keep things casual enough for us to see each other when I'm in town, OK with me leaving to do my job. It's not that complicated, is it?" she goes on, eyeing him defiantly. She's not so much trying to tell him what went wrong in their relationship, but lashing out at his comment, annoyed. Lynn suddenly comes to Catherine's mind, like a gleaming sword, so she really doesn't understand why Steve's suddenly showed up in Washington, in her flat, at this hour, without a phone call or text to let her know he was coming, annoyed at another man for showing a romantic interest in her.

"Was than jab meant for me?" he asks, pinning her with a glare, annoyed at how accurately succinct she managed to be.

"Jab? No jab here, Steve... you asked." Catherine's losing her patience.

"Right. As if..." He rolls his eyes at her, sure that she meant her comment as criticism. "Besides, wasn't it kind of hard to 'keep a relationship going, when you do what you do'? He's tipped his hand, by now, so _'in for a penny, in for a pound'_. It's not as though he's in full control of his emotions, right now.

"Steve, don't you dare roll your eyes at me, I hate that," she wiggles her finger in warning, remembering the last time he'd done that. "And… what the hell do you want from me, anyway? You show up at my door, sit down to dinner with my friends and decide not to like one of them... but that's your problem, not mine... you want to put my friends through a thorough vetting process, now?" Sarcasm really doesn't become her.

"Cath, you know what I mean. That guy's a complete idiot! The stuff he said about the military... how could you even listen to him without telling him to shut up?!" Steve's not ready to let go of the bone, or to admit that his protests have nothing to do with what the man had to say about the Armed Forces.

"Steve, I'm not going to discuss my friends with you. Or dinner guests, for that matter," she adds, with finality, hoping to put the matter to rest.

"It's your life, your choice," he insists, unwilling to let go.

"What's it to you, anyway? My love life is none of your business. Hasn't been for a long time," she throws back, feeling tired. If anyone had told her, a mere two hours ago, that she would ever throw this at his face, she would roll down on the floor laughing.

"And whose fault is that, Catherine?" Steve whispers, looking away from her, feeling a pang of pain strike his heart.

His question leaves her stunned to silence for a few seconds. This was the last thing she expected to hear from him. She exhales forcefully, searching for his eyes and finally looks at him head on, unable to believe what she just heard. She can feel herself getting increasingly angrier and lashes out at him, not thinking her answer through.

"Mine, Steve, all mine. You were just an innocent bystander in our relationship. You were never to blame, in what happened. I just woke up one day, decided that I'd had enough happiness for a lifetime, so it was time to say goodbye to the man I loved, leave paradise and join the CIA, to go on to capture enemy combatants in dangerous, horrible places around the world! No family life, no social life, no love life, sort of like a punishment, you know? Yes. I needed to be punished for what I did to YOU. And now, just when I thought I had been punished enough, you show up at my door, to remind me of my wrongdoing and prolong said punishment. Nice."

Her sarcasm strikes him hard, so much so that he has the decency to look ashamed at her lashing out. He takes a step forward, towards her, hands open, facing down, trying to placate her anger.

"Cath, there's no punishment here, please. But you left without an explanation. I loved you too, you know? I was heartbroken, angry at you for leaving. Those are some very basic human emotions, strong and raw. It took me a very long time to deal with them, and to be able to be in the same room with you, again."

Catherine's momentarily stunned at his words. She would've never expected him to bare his soul, the way he just did. And it's also the first time she's ever looked him in the eye and heard him utter the word love, when it comes to her.

"You know, Steve, knowing things and communicating them to the person you're with are not exactly the same thing. Expecting the other to guess how you feel and what you want out of them... normally doesn't work. Adults need to speak, to communicate. And it's good to know that you finally found your 'relationship voice', and that you can finally talk about stuff. It's just a shame that it comes two years too late, and directed at the wrong person."

"What are you saying, Cath? If you were unhappy when we were together, why not tell me?"

"Nothing. I'm saying nothing. It's very late and I'm really tired. I think we both need to stop dredging up the past, and just leave it where it belongs."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that we both may say stuff that we regret, so let's not go there, please. Our window has passed."

"If there ever was a time to speak our minds, this is it. I'm here, I want to listen to what you have to say, no time like the present."

"You don't really mean that, believe me," Catherine says, looking at him seriously, hoping he doesn't go on.

"Why not? We're not together anymore, but we're still friends, right? I would've thought the time we spent apart, since breaking up, would've given us enough distancing to be able to talk about what happened, like two adults," he says, trying to convey a lightness he definitely doesn't feel. _And what's with the "we're still friends" crap, Steven_?

"Is that what you came here to do, then? Talk about what happened?" she throws back at him, as though the concept is as ridiculous as him suddenly having changed to the point of wanting to bare his soul to her.

"That, too."

"Why? Why now? What happened? Why the sudden need to rehash something that's in the past?" Catherine replies, annoyed. This is getting too painful for her.

"I'm older, wiser, more mature… call it what you want. I've been through a lot, in the last few years, and at some point, you start to take stock of your life, you know? Stuff you did right vs. stuff you got really wrong. I want to move forward with a clean conscience, to understand why some things happened."

"Oh, that's beautiful," Catherine says, dripping sarcasm. "Just perfect. And you're here to… what? Tell me about this beautiful realisation that suddenly hit you, so you can wash your conscience at my expense, and put the full blame of what happened on my shoulders?"

"No, Cath, it's not like that, please," he pleads with her, sighing, sorry for having made her feel the need to defend herself. "I needed to know you were OK, see you, talk to you."

"And this whole conversation couldn't have taken place in Montana? You had me all to yourself for almost four weeks! No need for air travel or cloak and dagger prying into my current address!"

"Montana was all about Joe. I was grieving at losing another father. My mind was consumed by thoughts of revenge, of finding out who was responsible. I had no time to think of anything else. You know how I get when I have work on my mind…"

"Sadly, I do know how you get when work is on your mind. But right now, you're here, you've seen I'm relatively unscathed, we've talked. What else do you need? Let's get this over with, I need to get some sleep."

"What else? First of all, I'd love to know why you left."

"Whoa, Nelly! I thought we'd had this conversation already – like, years ago."

"No – as always, we simply trampled all over our emotions and buried them. You remember our "talk" on the plane?" Steve says, smiling ironically.

"Wow, that's a first! You, admitting to not talking?" She's genuinely surprised.

"I've had a long time to think about this," he says, growing serious. "Why did you leave, Cath?" Suddenly, his eyes are on her and they never waver.

"Why can't it have been the reason I offered, at the time?" she says, only half invested in the lie.

"It could. But I don't buy it. So tell me – was it me? Was I so bad at being your boyfriend that you just decided to let go, not fight for us?"

"Oh, wait… so now this is ALSO my fault? I seem to remember you telling me, sitting on your porch, that if I left that time, you couldn't wait for me, not anymore. So, technically, you ended it, not me."

"And you could've told me why you were leaving, what was going on, Cath… Hell, kissed me and told me you didn't accept my ultimatum!"

"You're an adult. I would never presume to know what was going on in your heart. You never ever told me 'I love you' once, Steve! If you were so emotionally stunted that you were unable to open up to ME, why would I expose my emotions like that? Beg? That's not me! How could I be sure of your feelings for me, since you never said anything? I may be a Lieutenant in the United States Navy, and former Intelligence Officer, but there are things even I can't do, such as read your mind! We can't be expected to always figure out or assume how the other person is feeling, without words! And I'm also a woman! We like to be wooed, sometimes, you know?" And then, kind of to herself, she murmurs, "you might want to make the most of that tip in the future."

He looks at her with a _'really?'_, annoyed look, having heard her just fine, but lets it go. "So we both messed up, fine… Look, I'm gonna ask you the same question I asked you over 2 years ago, on that air strip, in Rabat. Are you happy, doing what you're doing? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?"

"What do you mean? This is the job I chose, and I love it."

"I mean… is it enough for you? Are you happy, going from country to country, alone, acquiring assets and fighting enemy combatants, always in danger, with nothing and no one to come back home to?"

"You're assuming a lot, Steve," Catherine says, throwing him a look of warning, slightly offended by his perceived lopsidedness in their familial circumstances.

"Am I?" he asks, sad look marring his features.

"Don't go down that route, please," she says, mimicking his look, but with an edge of warning.

"Why? Is anything I'm thinking not true? Do you have a stable, happy love life, during the short periods you are stateside? A boyfriend? A husband? A child? A real Ohana? Are you happy with your life?"

"You bastard! How dare you?" Catherine gives Steve an incredulous look, feeling her ire rise within her, and moves away from him, breath catching in her chest, heart pounding furiously, brows furrowed.

"What? Ask you about all this? They're normal questions between friends!"

"We're not JUST friends, Steve. So these questions, from you to me... no, not with our history. I still can't believe you're here, asking me this stuff!"

"Exactly, Cath, we're not JUST friends. Despite what we told each other in Kaho'olawe, trying to make an awkward situation less awkward, I never ever regretted _'sleeping with you'_," he makes air quotes. "Besides, there was no other way that relationship could've gone. I loved you almost from the first day I met you. Which is why I'd really like to know if you're happy with the life you lead these days."

"You know what? I'm going to bed, I refuse to rehash our breakup. We had a silent understanding between us, where we didn't talk about our past. And I was fine with that!"

"_You_ refuse?! _Our_ breakup? You mean, your breakup! Because it was all about your decision, your move, your leaving, your wants and needs," Steve says, indignant, unable to control his mouth.

"What? Is that how you see it? As though you always put your thoughts out in the open? As though YOU weren't the one to throw an ultimatum at my face? _'If you go now, don't bother coming back?'_ You can't force me to talk about that! I won't!"

"Catherine… your refusal to talk about what happened only makes me even more suspicious as to why you left. Please, talk to me," he pleads.

"Steve, you're grieving and that makes people do crazy things. I am sorry Joe's gone, but that doesn't give you the right to show up here, and…"

"This has nothing to do with Joe," he says adamantly, dismissing her suggestion with a flick of the hand, matter-of-factly. "Joe is dead and buried. I am grieving, yes, but right now, I am following his advice. Because I am not dead. And neither are you. Life's for the living, Catherine! Everyone around me kept telling me that I needed to get my head out of my ass and chase after my happiness, "Don't waste time", "'Find a good woman, settle down". So, I thought I'd found my second chance in life, after so much heartache – and I took it. I guess I was just hoping you'd been able to find a similar peace, for yourself…?" Steve says, calming down and lowering his tone of voice. He looks at her with his full attention and at that moment, can literally feel each of his heartbeats pulse in his ears, air burning his nostrils, wave of adrenaline punishing him. "I worry about you, I am your friend, after all," he finishes, clumsily, trying to deflate her anger.

Catherine can only think of Lynn as she listens to Steve and angrily turns her back to him, turning off the living room lights with him still inside. She starts to walk towards the bedroom, ready to close the door and shut Steve's words out, annoyed that her walking pace can't be faster, to put her point across. She's on the brink of tears at hearing him tell her that Lynn was his 'second chance', and no longer worried at what he will think, given her reaction. Suddenly, she hears Steve's angry voice, as he moves closer to her:

"Yeah, walk away, like you always do."

His words have the desired effect; she turns around, indignant look on her face and just stares at him, glances doing battle, wanting nothing more than to throw him out of her flat without ceremony. Instead, all she can feel is her arm rising and her hand slapping him with force across the face, as though she's having an out-of-body experience. The force of the slap is only equaled by her angry words, tears falling from her eyes.

"How dare you, Steven McGarrett! How dare you?" Catherine sputters, turning around to flee to her bedroom.

Without even blinking from her slap, Steve caringly pulls on her wrist, hoping this will stop her, but Catherine is really angry and simply breaks free of his hold with a tug of her arm, never looking back, intent on continuing towards the bedroom. What she hasn't counted on is Steve's speed, as he swiftly walks forward and does a 180, standing in front of her, intense, pained look on his face. When Catherine tries to round his form and continue forward, lowering her eyes so he doesn't see her tears continuing to fall, he lunges towards her, hands on both sides of her face and crashes his lips on hers - a hungry, desperate, primal kiss, ignited with a passion that he has been holding back on for weeks, now.


	36. Chapter 35

Author's Notes:** These next few chapters took me over a month to write, it was torture. I went back and forth repeatedly, some days managing to only edit 2 sentences, not really sure of how much detail I should include in this part of the story. As it turns out, it's become a kind of erotic novel – so I'd classify it as NC-17, if readers still remember what that is (explicit, but no weird stuff). I've read a few M-rated stories here and this is definitely NOT it. If you are susceptible, please DO NOT read this. As a non-American, I've lived in a different culture when it comes to this stuff, but I do realise that fanfiction is American and that most readers are probably American, so the caveat is there. I've only very recently discovered that your story disappears from the normal list of stories if you class it as M. Enough said. Or the way morgue scenes are portrayed in American vs. European TV shows. Most interesting, the cultural differences.**

**As for why… well, I guess if I'm detailed in other parts, this is an equally important one, right? I did not write a sex scene just for the kick of it – as, without context and proper buildup, they are mere boring, technical sentences without any interest at all. I hope I managed to intersperse the sex parts with the emotions and conflict going on inside them, as this is a pivotal part of the tale. That, for me, is the really challenging and important part to move the story along.**

* * *

As Steve's mouth seeks Catherine's in a frenzied attack, she's is still so mad at him, her reaction is to push him away. Hands on his torso, she yells an irate _"I don't want you"_ at Steve, which takes him by surprise by the sheer aggressiveness of it. She's trying to fight him tooth and nail on this, and her whole body has gone rigid with anger. However, he's stronger than her and simply moves his hands from her cheeks to her upper arms, gripping her, stopping her from putting distance between them, eyes never leaving hers. Steve feels confident that he's read the situation correctly and his mind suddenly wanders back to all the tension that had been building up between them, in Montana and Afghanistan, images running in a loop, in his head - the looks and smiles, the brushes of skin on skin, the hugs, the smells, the memories she progressively awoke in him, now coming to an explosive end. Emboldened by the feelings he has finally allowed to surface, synapses in his brain firing on all cylinders, he throws her a dead-serious look and whispers, huskily:

"One way or another, you're mine, tonight. We've been dancing around each other for too long, now," as he lowers his right hand and lays it on her hip, possessively, in an attempt at holding her in place, apprehensive about her reaction.

There it is, that weightless want that has slowly been crushing her insides for weeks. Catherine curses inwardly, feeling the inevitableness of what's about to happen, like a gravitational pull reeling her in. She looks up at him and suddenly, her eyes know, her face betrays her... she's tired. Of denying that there's still a strong attraction between them, of ignoring her own desire, of refusing to acknowledge that she wants this man, so very much. She's tired of waiting, really. However, despite the million feelings coursing through her from this one kiss, making her dizzy and lightheaded, there is a single thought in her head: he's taken. She can't conciliate that knowledge with the fact that he's here, wanting her, too, and that's leaving her off kilter, angry at herself, even. But taking one more look at him, she knows there's no going back, they've both reached the point of no return. Maybe just for tonight, under the cover of darkness, she can finally… feel good, outside world be damned.

While this struggle is going on inside Catherine's mind, Steve hesitates, never letting go; she's not exactly a blushing maiden, but the last thing he wants is to offend or unnerve her. He continues to fix his stare on Catherine, suspended in time, when suddenly, she exhales forcefully and flutteringly diverts her look to his lips for a millisecond. At that moment, his doubts over whether she's angry or aroused dissipate – the fast succession of shallow pants, the strong thrumming of blood through her brachial artery, her otherwise pale face flushed, lips red and swollen from his desperate kiss - courtesy of the dim light in the hallway. He leans forward again, slowly, giving her time to move away and lowers his mouth to hers, tentatively, hoping not to be rejected again. Steve brushes his lips over Catherine's very gently, wanting to taste them, tilting his head to the left, eyes still open, looking for her reaction. Suddenly, she's no longer pushing him away and Steve gently grabs her lower lip into his mouth and sucks, using the tip of his tongue to delve into her mouth, tongues engaged in dance, teasing and driving them wild.

He takes his time kissing her, and she closes her eyes, concentrating on the feeling, electricity shooting a shiver down her spine, straight to the middle of her legs. She can taste the wine on his lips, inebriating her, and they feel so soft and warm, sweet and comforting, it's like finally coming home. While kissing him, Catherine runs the tips of her fingers gently over his scalp, and then tugs at his hair. Steve's small sounds and pleasure moans goad her to pull harder, and quickly let go, the playful tease driving him crazy. She plants a very soft kiss in the small groove above his lips, right before running her tongue down it, to meet his upper lip. Lowering his left arm to grab her bottom, he mimics her actions as he sneaks up his right to entangle his fingers in her hair, pulling slightly, showing dominance. This feels so right, Steve has a sense of elation. He can hardly believe he is kissing her, right at this moment. After years of skirting around each other, he has finally acted on his feelings, and although he knows that they must really talk, right now he needs to show her how much he has missed her. No words can express how much he wants her right now, but feeling the need to come up for some air, he looks her deep in the eye, whispering:

"Do you have any idea how much you turn me on? How alive I feel, right now?"

Every fiber of her being craves his touch. She reaches up and pulls him down to her, and the rest of his words are lost against her mouth. He kisses her again, delicately, tentatively, but she doesn't want gentleness right now, so she pulls on his shirt, bringing him harder against her. He groans softly, low in his throat, urgently pulling her bottom half to him, wanting to feel her body against his; curve against curve, skin on skin, unable to suppress the feeling of exhilaration invading his body. Catherine is equally lost to the world, electrified by his touch; despite her promises to herself, she can't resist him. His presence was the last thing she had expected tonight, but right now, with her brain fog, all coherent thought has fled her mind. All she knows is that he's making her feel like she hasn't felt in over three years, and not just because she hasn't been intimate with another man since. Steve is… Steve. He has always had a mesmerizing effect on her, and right now, she feels like a teenager being kissed for the very first time. To be honest, she doesn't want this feeling to stop, and since she can't even feel most of her body parts, right now, she wouldn't even know where to start. So she just goes with the flow and stops resisting him, moving her hands under his arms, to rest on his shoulders and keep him glued to her. As soon as he feels her giving in to him completely, Steve moves his left hand down to her thigh, and slowly raises it, joining the other hand there and cupping her bottom, carefully. Catherine's instinctive reaction is to jump onto his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, never breaking contact with his mouth, shivering at his touch. She's desperate for more, and even her bruised hip is no hindrance. All the feelings she kept bottled up all these years come tumbling out, making her lose whatever tenuous control she thought she might be able to hold on to.

Their kiss goes on, urgent, desperate, out of control. With a groan of surrender, she lets him slip his tongue inside her mouth, rubbing hers. He pulls out, then slowly delves back in, with the tip, mimicking what he wants his body to be doing to hers. The taste of him silences all her thoughts, stomach twisting in a knot, knees melting, muscles turned to jell-O, breath out of control and her body dissolves into his, fingers nervously gripping his hair, pulling him closer.

"Now deny you want this," Steve says in a husky voice, piercing eyes on her. He's fought her for dominance and won, and he knows it. The rush he feels is like nothing he can remember.

Catherine lowers her eyes, fully aware of what's coming and unable to push him away. Still with his hands on her bottom, but needing more leverage for what he's dying to do, Steve quickly moves to the living room door jamb and, moving his left hand to her back to protect her and propping the right on the surface, pushes them both against it with a dry thud. His move empties the air out of Catherine's lungs and she exhales and hisses, startled, eyes wide, body stiffened, trying to ignore the pain radiating from her hip. He stops and stares, worried about her injuries, but she just looks at him with hunger in her eyes, so he kisses her hard and deep again. Pressing himself against her and shoving his hips between her legs, he pins her to the wall, releasing his hand from the door and burying it in her hair.

His move only serves to egg her on even further, and she reaches for his shirt collar and rips the sides apart aggressively, releasing all the buttons onto the floor, his manly smell attacking her nostrils. She looks him deep in the eye, breathing heavily, not sure what he'll do next, hoping he got the message. Steve is so turned on, he can't think straight anymore. He looks at her reverently, intensely, as though she may disappear from his field of vision and become nothing more than a desert mirage and crashes his mouth against her lips again in a searing kiss, entwining his tongue with hers once again. All he can think is that, at some point, they'll need to come up for air, but right now, he just wants to stay like this indefinitely. While he embraces her, mentally registering the feel of her hard nipples, his right hand slides up her skin to her bra and he pushes it up, releasing her breasts from their fabric confinement. Surprised at the feather-light touch of his fingers on her body, she pulls back, looking him deep in the eye. Steve cups her cheek, sighing, sorry for time lost, and Catherine leans into his palm and closes her eyes, a lone tear falling, in a tender display of love.


	37. Chapter 36

'_Young is the night _

_It feels so right _

_Now that U're mine _

_Let's take our time _

_The man in the moon is smiling _

_4 he knows what I'm dreaming of _

_Tonight is the night 4 making slow love.'_

_**Prince, Slow Love**_

* * *

The storm rages outside, rain charged with thunderous energy, thrumming furiously against her window panes as though wanting to join them. The only soundtrack to their loss of control, it mimics their aggressive kisses, fighting for dominance, all lip and tongue, desperate for release. Two Alphas, unwilling to really yield power, but too turned on to not fall into each other's arms, if only for tonight, under the cover of darkness. Steve again presses his body against Catherine's, grinding against her pelvis through his pants, and she throws her head back, leaving the nape of her neck exposed, feeling his arousal. He bites her ear, inhaling her scent, moving downwards with his tongue, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. Moving back up, he reaches her chin, stopping in his tracks, looking at her. Her eyes are closed, but at the sudden loss of contact, she opens them with an inquiring, pleading look, furrowing her brow. He simply smiles the most honest smile she's ever seen on him and tells her, with a low voice:

"Cath, I want to take you right here, but I'm afraid I'll be too rough with you, you're hurt. It's been too long, so I am more animal than lover, right now."

His words cause a surge of adrenaline to shoot through her body, shivers travelling down her spine and leaving her insides on fire, brain short circuiting. The only relief she can get for that is to breathe deeply, closing her eyes and filling her lungs with air.

"That makes two of us. Just do it, wherever, however, I don't care. I need you inside me right now, you're not going to hurt me, I feel no pain," Catherine whispers, eyes glazed over, desire and want invading her like a flood. She's past any rational thought, at this point, and doesn't even dwell on his 'it's been too long'.

Steve is beyond aroused at hearing her words. Quickly, he opens her trouser button, slips his fingers beneath the band of her panties and carefully pulls them down together with her pants, two thirds of the way down her thighs. He releases his hold on her and lets her legs reach the floor, holding her still against the jamb with his body, for fear of her falling forward, remembering her injuries. She's now oblivious to what's happening around her, eyes lost, trying to regain control of her breathing. Pushing her against the jamb with one hand, he kneels, leaning into her to trail kisses down her stomach. He pulls her pants out of her legs in two swift motions, not wanting to waste any more time, leaving her panties where they ended up, down her thighs. Getting up again, he grabs her by the waist, lifting her off the floor again, propping her against his body with the help of his right leg. Catherine suddenly opens her eyes and looks down between them; she extends her legs to prop herself against the jamb, pushing her bottom against the other side and reaches for his waist, pushing his pants and underwear down as far as she physically can. For the purpose of what she needs, it'll do, she thinks. Looking back up, she throws him a beckoning look, her pants quick and deep, mouth half open urging him to kiss her again, which he does. As soon as his body squeezes hers, she can feel his hardness rubbing against the inside of her thighs, driving her insane with want; she wraps her arms tightly around him and digs her nails into his back, losing control.

A thought fleetingly crosses Steve's mind; this is not the way he wanted to physically be back with Catherine, after so long. But he can't help himself, he's hopeless when it comes to this woman, and he needs to bury himself in her right now. Suddenly, he hears Catherine gasp, eyes wild, alarmed look on her face.

"Cath?" And her name on his lips has never sounded like this, reverent, adoring. "What is it?" He's trying to calm her down, but also reassure himself, as he hugs her again, silently asking her to not move away from him.

"I… I…" She stutters, but remains in his arms, scooting down his body a little. Who knows how, but she manages a sliver of clarity exactly at the last moment. "Steve, it's not that I don't want this, because God knows I do…" And she cringes for finally admitting it, but it's more than clear to him that she obviously wants him as badly as he wants her. The thought turns him on even more.

"OK," he says, smiling, happy at hearing her words. "What, then?"

"When did you…?" She sounds embarrassed, but she's actually trying not to think about him with her, in bed.

"When did I what, Cath?" He whispers sweetly at her, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. She closes her eyes and leans into it.

"I'm sorry for asking, but I need to know. When did you last get tested?" Catherine casts her eyes down, not wanting him to see her pain.

"Catherine, you suppose, for a moment, that I would be here, about to make love to you, if there was any chance that I had an STD?" Steve says, looking her in the eye. He understands her question, but she must know that he would never put her in any danger.

Her relief is palpable, she loves that he said 'make love' instead of 'have sex', and she bows her head down, excusing herself. "Sorry, Steve, but I had to ask."

He lifts her chin up, to look her in the eye adoringly, smiling. "I understand. You?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," she dismisses him immediately, holding onto him for dear life, still feeling his erection prodding impatiently at the juncture of her thighs, like a reminder. She loves to know she is the cause of it; it's primal, but they're animals, after all.

"I don't have any condoms on me, sorry… wasn't counting on this," he goes on, embarrassed smile gracing his features. Jesus, at this point, would getting her pregnant be so bad?

And she loves him a little bit more for that. Pointing to herself, she says, with a coy smile "Birth control shot." Jealousy spears through him at the thought of another man seeing her naked, touching her, so he closes his eyes and hugs her, kissing her on the shoulder, fervently. She reads him perfectly; after all, it's not as though she hasn't wanted to do the same, tonight. But reverence is not what she wants out of him, right now, so she whispers in his ear, with a sultry voice: "Now make good on your threat and fuck me, Commander."

Staring at her in stunned surprise, another wave of pure adrenaline punishes Steve's entire body, all his blood rushing south. He's so turned on by her words that he reaches for both her top and bra and bunches them up against her neck. He hasn't seen her naked in a long while, so he moves back a sliver to contemplate her body, once more: raven hair against alabaster skin, the shape of her beautiful breasts moving in tune with her labored breathing, taut abdomen, a landing strip of hair leading to heaven. Steve can't keep his hands off her and attacks her neck, raking her sensitive flesh with his teeth, sending shivers down her spine. Catherine closes her eyes and tilts her head back, abandoning herself to the sensations claiming her, letting her hands rest on his head and pulling his hair in the process. He looks at her reverently, and, opening his hands, moves them up to cup her breasts in his hands, exploring the soft hollow beneath each one, kneading the soft skin. Feeling the pale pink, puckered nipples poke at the center of his palms, he lightly pinches one, causing a low moan to escape her lips. Steve rubs the other between his fingers, and then traces the soft skin of her areola, murmuring, _'You're so beautiful.'_

Uncomfortable from his intense look and words, she shifts and before she can move away, Steve leans in again, capturing one of her tight nipples in his mouth. Catherine's instinctive reaction is to utter a muffled cry and buckle forward, cradling his head against her breast, as Steve slides his tongue over the other nipple, reaching for the first between his fingers, now more slippery. Catherine feels a restless fire slowly building within her, and she opens her eyes, looking pleadingly at him. Her breathing has become erratic, sending short puffs of breath against his skin. Suddenly mumbling a desperate _'more, Steve,'_ the impatience in her voice fills him with unadulterated exhilaration. The craving that's been gnawing at him, ever since he arrived, relents slightly at being able to touch her skin and taste her flesh, calming the storm brewing inside him. However, he can feel it bubble beneath his cool flesh, just waiting to erupt. They're about to finally be united as one, after years of not knowing if he would ever even see her again, and the feeling is overwhelming for him.

Slowly reaching a finger between her open legs, Steve parts her folds, whispering _'You're so wet'_ in her ear, able to smell her desire for him. Catherine's slow fire has turned to a fever burn, starting in her stomach, spreading down to her core. She whimpers and sucks in a breath, giving a small laugh, whispering _'your fault,_' making him smile, in turn, in awe of her. Asking for her permission with a nod of the head, Catherine's answer is to simply grab his buttocks and moan again, his flesh now rubbing her in just the right spot, with the promise of release. About to lose control, he grabs her waist and buckles upwards, fiercely thrusting into her, the warm, moist embrace engulfing him, simply heaven. What he's feeling right now, is not of this world and he had all but forgotten – or shoved to the deepest recesses of his mind – what it feels like to be burrowed deep within her, like this, intimately bonded in pleasure.

Catherine opens her eyes wide at the feeling, breath catching in her throat, her sex clenching with need and her blood pulsing with heat. He pulls her up then slams her down again quickly, setting the pace for his pounding and bracing himself on one side of the jamb, the other on her non-bruised hip, making her smile at how careful he's trying to be. She fixates her eyes on his, helping him with his fierce up and down drives, moaning _'Steve!'_ as she grinds her clit down against his pelvis. Nails digging into his shoulders and raking across his back, Catherine urges him on, interspersing her pleas with moans. Heart rate racing, dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, her breathing becomes shallower and jagged. Steve only has discernment to keep pounding into her, jamb giving him the leverage he needs, and he knows he won't be able to last much longer; it's been a long time, and this is Catherine, after all – two determining factors for him. But he must try, nonetheless, pride and all.

"Cath, please stop moaning," he whispers, strained laughter escaping him. "If you do, I won't last much longer." He looks so very sexy, that she's struck by a glimmer of cruel clarity at this exact moment, and knows she'll always love this man.

Mirroring his laughter, she moans again. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you."

"Hell of a memory to hold on to…" And he slows down to an almost halt, making her whimper, suffering with her.

Catherine smiles suggestively at him, with the promise of what's to come. "Oh, but it won't be the last. It just means you'll have to make it up to me, later…"

He just wants to kiss that smirk off her face, so he doesn't answer her. Overwhelmed by her suggestion, tightening his gaze, a muscle in his jaw flexes as he swallows hard. He groans, shifting his hips and restarts his movements, first a rhythmic rocking, then, as he loses control, burying himself in her even deeper. Her hands go up, reaching for the top casing, holding onto it for leverage, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him in, willing him to grind against her just a little harder, hitting the right spot. Her body accommodates and clenches around him, hot, tight and wet, the heat of his skin burning her. Catherine bites Steve's neck and shoulders as she lifts her hips to meet his powerful thrusts, faster, harder, almost frantic for release. His hand grips her hip tight, fingers digging into her skin as he thrusts one last time and suddenly, he cries out, body shuddering violently and head thrown back in pure bliss, spilling into her.

They stay still for a few minutes, looking each other in the eye, Steve breathless and panting heavily. He touches his forehead to hers, as she smiles lovingly at him, silently praying that she could stay like this forever. Suddenly, Catherine starts to feel cramps in her legs from the strain and slowly lowers them, still in Steve's supporting embrace. He pushes his body into her again, kissing her on the mouth and wraps his own arms around her torso, holding her tight against him and remaining deep inside her. Next, he supports his chin in the crook of her neck, out of breath still, and Catherine raises her hands to run them through his hair, trying to get to grips with her emotions. She can feel a sheen of perspiration blanketing her body, suddenly cooling her and her sexual frustration, off. Steve can't find the strength to talk, while he comes down from his high, trying to get his breathing under control. After a few more minutes, his embarrassment gets the better of him and he disentangles himself from her, looking her in the eye, while pulling his pants up over his open shirt.

"I'm sorry, Cath, this really did not go as planned."

"You're kidding, right? What plan?" Catherine retorts, amused.

"You know exactly what I mean, and again, I am sorry."

"Why? Are you planning on leaving soon?"

"Cath…"

"Seriously! Come on, Steve, we live in the real world, can we please get over this idea that couples are supposed to come at the same time?"

"You're amazing, you know that?" He looks seriously at her, an amused smile finally breaking out, unwilling to go into it any further, and brings his lips down to hers, kissing her hungrily.

After a second to consider their circumstances, Steve decides against redeeming himself in their current position and, holding her tight, moves them away from the wall. She barely registers the change of pressure, but has to open her eyes when he whispers at her, "sofa?" and can only nod silently, repeatedly, urging him on, kissing him again. He steps back, towards the large leather sectional, and in a swift move turns them 90 degrees and carefully lays her down, leaning on the back of the sofa with his right hand and propping his left knee on the edge, to keep from falling heavily on top of her. He takes a moment to contemplate his feelings at this precise moment. The woman he loves is in his arms, and he's finding this reality difficult to grasp, because if he's honest with himself, he's been secretly dreaming of this moment for so long, always unsure of how she would receive him or even if she might have moved on to another lover. He breathes in deeply, banishing those thoughts from his mind, aware of her inebriating smell, suddenly realising how much he's missed it and her. He brings his nose to her neck and glues his lips onto it, sucking vigorously, scraping the flesh with his teeth. Catherine moans and releases her arms from his waist, moving one up to his head, running the fingers through his hair. Steve then starts to descend into her collar bone, tracing the outline with his wet tongue, while slowly letting the rest of his body rest on top of hers, carefully, weighing her down. Catherine spreads her legs to accommodate and hold him, keeping her eyes closed and her right hand on his back, lowering it to his waist.

The moment she finds the edge of his shirt, tucked away in his pants, she pulls it out, annoyed at it for still covering his body. She then pushes her elbow down on the sofa, hand on his chest, propping herself up to a sitting position, and pulls down on the shirt sleeves, motioning for him to get rid of it. He does so in two swift moves, smiling wickedly at her and puts his right arm on her back, preventing her from lying back down. Catherine shivers, looking him dead in the eye, anticipation killing her. Steve pulls her bra and top up again, in one swift motion, whispering "hands up" at her, passing them through her head. Grabbing the fabric, he lays it behind her as a makeshift pillow, making Catherine laugh at the ridiculousness of having several pillows available on the sofa, somewhat diffusing the heavy air between them.

Wanting to leave her physically comfortable, and worried not only about her previous injuries, but also any he may have just inflicted on her with their aggressive romp against the door jamb, Steve grabs a pillow from the back of the sofa and places it underneath her pelvis, straightening her legs as he gently caresses them. While doing so, his eyes land on her hip, where he can just make out a seriously angry, black bruise extending from her waist to her thigh, making him again wonder what exactly happened in Afghanistan. Heart constricting with fear, he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, to try to dissipate the anger. Reverently leaning forward, hunched over, he kisses a path down her abdomen, peppering her hip with the lightest kisses, making her tingle all over. He stops for a moment to circle her navel, kissing it, something which takes her completely by surprise. She inhales sharply, hands back on his head, and starts to feel the effects of his kisses in between her legs again, as he continues on his path down to her pelvic area, painfully slow. She throws him a hungry look, urging him to return to her kisses and embrace. But Steve has other ideas and smiles a devilish grin at her, continuing to lavish his attention on her midsection, moving his hands upwards and pushing her down on the sofa, gently. He looks intently at her breasts, nipples hardened under his heated gaze and gently cups each breast with a hand, caressing them softly, reassured by their warmth and how well they fit in his hands.

Slowly, he changes the direction of his kisses and starts to make his way up her body. Catherine is lost in a world of sensations; she hasn't been this wired, this sensitive to touch since… they last slept together, she remembers, and then, it had been a knowing goodbye. She had wanted to commit him to memory, every curve of his body, the way his skin smelled, its warmth, how he reacted to her touch, how he moaned at her. She suspected he would be angry at her for leaving without so much as an explanation and wouldn't want to maintain a long-distance relationship for much longer, and she had been right. Pushing those sad memories aside, for now, Catherine concentrates on his ministrations, fully enjoying the effect they are having on her body, closing her eyes. She opens her legs wide, inviting him, nestling him, and lowers her hands to his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Steve stops just below her ribcage and chooses a pressure point to suck and lick, moving up through her midline, avoiding her breasts and not fully lying on top of her. He's overwhelmed with emotion and needs a minute to collect himself.

Suddenly, the forgotten JBL in the corner, that had been quietly and inconspicuously entertaining guests all night, comes to life with "Kiss and say goodbye", by the N-Phase. Catherine can't help but wonder; it's one of her favourite songs, and the lyrics go on about a couple's last rendez-vous, since one of them has ties with someone else and must therefore end the relationship. Her amusement turns bitter, as she looks up to the ceiling and silently asks God if he's sending her a message. Ever since the middle of her third week in Montana, she's known this was probably in the cards. She just didn't know when it would happen. She had thought that maybe she was imagining things, or that Steve would resist his urges, since he was the one who was seeing someone else, and Catherine had sworn to herself that she would never be THAT woman. But resisting him, under these circumstances, has proven impossible. She's made serious peace with it, by this point. Catherine looks down, indulgent smile on her face and gently raises his chin to make him fully look at her, full of love for this man, still.

"What's wrong, Steve? Having second thoughts? We can stop, if you want…," she says, suddenly afraid he's remembered he has a girlfriend waiting for him, back home.

"You and me, it's been too long. I guess I still can't believe we just…" he answers, in awe of her. Pinning her with a glare, he continues, intense. "With you, there are never second thoughts, do you hear me? Never."

Eyes boring into hers, Catherine believes him fully, making her dry swallow. _'So you have missed me, just as much as I missed you,_' she thinks, heart exploding in her chest, giddy with happiness. Giving Steve a sexy look, she runs her hands down his chest, reaching his cargo pants, clumsily fumbling with the zipper. She silently wonders how he managed to dress himself so quickly after their romp against the door, annoyed that his underwear is, once again, attached to his body. She huffs, frustrated and he laughs heartily at her, loving their tender moment.

"Now, Lieutenant, patience is a virtue, ever heard it said?"

"To hell with patience, off, off!"

Smiling proudly at her, Steve gets up and quickly discards his lower-body garments, unashamed of his nudity, never diverting his intense gaze. Catherine's eyes wander south, on his body, and she can't help a nostalgic exhale. He laughs again, proud at being able to make her sigh like she just did, after so long, and asks again:

"Cath, are you sure you're OK with this? I don't want to force you into anything, despite what I said in the heat of the moment …," he says, now slightly embarrassed at what he'd said earlier. 'You're raking in the embarrassments today, Steve.'

"Maybe you're right, Steve, let's not," she deadpans.

He just stands there, shocked, looking like a lost child. Not wanting sadness to mar the moment, Catherine looks him in the eye, extending her hand, and smiles reassuringly:

"Steve, come here, please."

He moves to the edge of the sofa, facing her, deflated and despondent, reaching for her hand, nonetheless. She grabs it and pulls him down, scooting towards the inside of the sofa, motioning for him to sit down. Never looking away from him, she moves his hand to her abdomen, splaying it above her navel. Slowly, moving his hand down, Catherine slightly parts her thighs, until his fingers comb through her pubic hair and reach the damp folds of her core, sliding freely through her. At Steve's surprise and aroused look, she smiles and tells him, very calm:

"Welcome back to my body."

He closes his eyes momentarily, stilling his hand, feeling an actual jolt to his heart, burning him. Then, slowly scooting back, he kneels at her feet, bending her legs at a 90 degree angle with her thighs. Moving his hands to her knees, Steve slowly presses her thighs open, never taking his eyes off her. For a moment, she's surprised at the level of intimacy they're sharing and starts to close them, but he gives her a gentle shake of the head, faint smile on his lips.

"No, don't, I want to see all of you," he whispers. "You're beautiful, especially when I look up from between your legs." And slowly, he meaningfully moves his eyes down to her core.

Her breath hitches and she blushes again, feeling her cheeks warm, but makes no move to close her legs. His eyes come up and look at her, and they share a complicit smile.

"What now, Commander?" Catherine says, smiling naughtily, anticipation killing her.

"Now I make you mine again." And he's being serious, she realises. It makes her feel cheap.

"Cut the possessiveness crap, sailor. It's endearing, but not appropriate for what we're doing here," she replies, a bit more aggressively than she had meant. Then, she smiles dismissively at his stunned face, shrugging.

Ignoring her condescension with an indulgent smile of his own, showing no signs of being offended, he climbs over her slowly, in between her open legs, and reaches for a stray lock of her hair, stuck to her neck, brushing it away. He looks down at her with such tenderness, it makes her heart ache. Slowly, supporting his weight on his left elbow, he slants his mouth over hers, capturing it in a slow burning kiss, spearing her with his tongue, hard and deep, foreshadowing what's to come. He slowly lies down on top of her, careful to avoid her sore spots, running a hand down her body. Catherine's hands come up to his head again, raking his hair, and she pulls him to her, loving the weight of his body pressing down on hers. Suddenly, she becomes aware of Steve's erection against her core and nervously brings her right hand down, sneaking it in between their bodies at hip level, stroking him and reaching between his legs to cup him. He growls low and deep in his throat at the soft touch of her fingers along his hard length, muscles bunching and flexing as he fights for control of his hips, instinctively thrusting into her hand, despite himself. Steve's trying to control his urges, but he wants her so badly, his whole body aches, so he sits back on his heels, and takes a moment to calm himself down, taking a deep breath, eyes closed.

As he opens his eyes, he smiles wickedly at her, lowering his body to the couch again. Slowly and carefully, he raises her left leg, resting it on the back of the sofa and moves forward, propping her right leg on his shoulders. She thrusts her hips upward and starts to hum, so he sneaks his hands between the pillow and her bottom, kneading the soft skin, angling her towards his face. When he lowers his mouth to her, feeling the heat radiating from her core, Steve whispers "relax, just let yourself go," and she has a mind to object, but his breath against her damp skin is too much to bear. So she does as he asks, nervous about what this new level of intimacy will mean tomorrow.

The first stroke of his warm tongue just barely touches her skin, glimmering with moisture, but the promise of what's to come makes her arousal spike so sharply, it becomes outright pain, making her hiss and her whole body jump. She contracts her thighs slightly, but doesn't close them or ask him to stop. He moves his left hand from under her to go around her leg and over her pelvis and spreads her open with his thumb and index finger, deepening the intimate contact, feeling his own manhood throb painfully with want, yearning for release inside her. He breathes out a strained "OK?", and her reply is to sink her bottom onto the pillow, pushing herself onto him.

Steve's hair tickles her right thigh, and suddenly, he moves his hand from under her, and pins her arms at her sides. She's captive, subdued, and the confinement feels too intense, so she discreetly tries to free herself, but he's not having it.

Raising his head, he looks at her. "You're going to come on my mouth. Stop trying to fight it. Stop trying to fight me."

At his words, Catherine decides to let go, unable to control her muscles, which have taken on a life of their own. Lips grazing against her salty, wet flesh, Steve savours her in slow motion, his senses on overload. As his lips part, his mouth engulfs her completely and he darts out his tongue back and forth, to lick her flush, moisture-glazed flesh that pulses at his touch. Catherine whimpers loudly, hands grasping at the pillow for something to hold on to. Every fiber of her being is electrified, sending her senses reeling and her body into meltdown. The moment she feels his tongue licking and tracing swirls around the area where the tingling vibration is almost unbearable, she bucks against him, and Steve takes her movement as an invitation to lick harder. Caught up in her scent and taste, which bring back so many wonderful memories, he closes his mouth over her clit, carefully sucking and kissing, before flattening it against her with more pressure.

Slowly, he drives his middle finger inside her, upward, deep, guiding her pleasure along with his tongue, in a steady rhythm. She moans again as he inserts a second finger, letting her knees fall completely open, a lightning storm behind her eyes as she grinds her hips down against his mouth, desperate for a crescendo of stimulation. He does it again, but faster, using gentle suction to draw her most sensitive spot into his mouth, alternating between firm suction and shallow penetration, feeling her slippery muscles clench and shudder around his fingers. He repeats the pattern again and again until she rocks her hips encouragingly and fists the pillow, arching her hips off the sofa, and the noises she is making are the most erotic sounds he's ever heard in his life. She feels his fingers accelerate with her response and, suddenly, they are no longer inside her, and that loss of sensation makes her whimper. She uses her last shred of control to open her eyes and look down, and he's looking at her, an enigmatic look on his face. Catherine just lays her head back down, closing her eyes, and Steve settles between her legs again, intertwining his right hand with her left, and smiling because she has finally given up control to him. He traces rhythmic up-and-down and circular paths with his thumb back on her clit, and thrusts his tongue deep inside her, as far as he can, devouring her. His right hand leaves hers and travels up, reaching for her breast and gently squeezes her nipple. Her breaths become shorter and shorter by each flip of his tongue, until she bucks upwards, in his hold. Suddenly, a memory comes to her mind, and she realises she hasn't felt like this since... before Najib, and the warmth spreads throughout her body like wild fire, pleasure almost intolerable.

"Come for me, Cath," he murmurs, before stroking her in long, sure licks, inhaling her scent and tasting the wetness that explodes along his tongue. His touch is sending jolts of electricity along her body, right to her brain.

"Steve, please don't stop," she begs, gasping, instinctively lifting her hips higher, as he holds her down and goes on, relentless.

Pleasure and tension mix together and build within her, crying for release, so Steve pulls her legs closer together, to increase the stimulation at a steady pace with his tongue, going back in with his two fingers. Catherine holds on for as long as she can, wanting to draw out the pleasure, flashes shooting behind her eyes from the jolt of electricity while on the edge, as it gathers the energy to come. She can feel her skin tightening and her body quivering, until the most glorious sensation just flares up, orgasm breaking explosively. Catherine desperately reaches for something to hold on to, thighs clamping around his head, legs trembling, shaky cry on her lips. Her back bows off the couch as the orgasm rages on, relentless, inexorable, core grinding against his fingers and mouth, and he keeps his tongue on her clit and softly caresses it while she climaxes. Her breasts are covered in perspiration, her nipples hard and her mouth is open, breaths ragged, eyes closed shut. When she finally stills, he slowly pulls his fingers from within her and brings her down slowly with gentle kisses and touches, until her sensitized flesh protests and she delicately moves his mouth away.

Steve slowly kisses his way back up Catherine's body, pressing his lips against her skin, burning her with his touch. "I love the way you taste."

He kisses her mouth, and she tastes herself on his tongue. As the kiss deepens, she feels his hard length burning against her, seeking her softness, rubbing her wet skin. She whimpers involuntarily at the overload of sensations, and he pauses, lifting his head. "Are you all right?" he asks, feeling her racing pulse, worried.

"I can't take any more of this right now," she manages to mutter, between gasps. "It's too much. Please."

"Mmmm," he murmurs. "Yes, you can."

"Seriously, Steve. Please."

Once again, he draws closer to her sex, and stops, making her whimper slightly. His tongue licks up one side of her lips, and down the other, just barely touching her clit and making her hips squirm. She moans, body tingling with pleasure, as he fingers her, stroking her deeper and faster, mouth sucking and licking her in rhythm with her pulse, his own desire painful, now. Sensing she's coming close to another orgasm, Steve increases his rhythm, turned on by her soft moans. A ragged cry breaks out of her until she is swept up in the torrent of hot contractions, wave after wave crashing through her, climax pulsing rhythmically, sending her over the edge into oblivion, losing control.

Sweaty and exhausted, muscles turned to mush, Catherine feels Steve stroke her through the last of her climax, gently, slowing down in tandem with her labored pants, until her tremors subside. Climbing his way back up her body with feather light kisses, he claims her mouth, desperate to see her face as her pleasure rolls on. He lies on top and to the side of her and they stay like that, for a long time, both lost in their own thoughts.

Foremost in Catherine's mind is the feeling of loss of control she just experienced and how wonderful it felt; to be able to let herself go, free of inhibitions, with the man lying on top of her, still weighing heavily in all the right spots. But it's more than that, she senses and it scares her; the passion she's had stashed away in her heart for this man, skillfully hidden and forgotten, has just resurfaced with a vengeance. Suddenly, three years means nothing, eclipsed by under two hours of unbridled passion. Catherine closes her eyes, breathing deeply, annoyed at the power Steve's always had over her, overcome by too many emotions. And her heart aches at how unfair all of this is – having just had him and having to let him go. It's like losing a part of herself all over again, and she sighs with sadness.

While this internal struggle is going on in Catherine's mind, Steve is trying to guess what's going on with her, as he really can't tell. Obviously, he knows he's just made her come twice, but past that, he's in the dark – literally and figuratively. He becomes aware of the storm outside, lulling his thoughts, happy that he is, once again, in the arms of the only woman he has ever really wanted and truly loved. Not wanting to dwell on sad thoughts at this happy moment, Steve gets up and scoops Catherine up from the sofa, kissing her on the lips. He's being very careful, but doesn't linger and as she opens her eyes, she leans into him, lacing her left arm behind his neck, shielding her face from his view.

He strides across the living room in large, hurried steps, and heads for the corridor, looking for her room. Without turning on the lights, he gently lays her down on the bed and just stands there, contemplating her. Catherine scoots up to rest her back against the headboard, and pulls the sheets from under her, smiling sweetly. But his smile is not sweet, right now and just a look at him makes her insides melt again and her adrenaline pump.

He climbs onto the bed, standing on his knees in front of her, and pulls the sheets all the way back, moving forward again, manhood standing at attention. "Oh, you thought we were done?" and his voice is so adamant, she doesn't dare contradict him or suggest she could do with a little reprieve. She just loves a man who takes charge in the bedroom, but she's not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. _'If he doesn't already, Catherine.'_ She looks at him with her eyebrows cocked, mouth curling into a grin when he hooks his hands under her knees and tugs her away from the headboard so that she's flat on her back.

"Fasten your seatbelt and put your seat in the upright position, because we're entering the far West, Lieutenant." He loves her stretched out on the bed, at his mercy, and it takes him back to happier times in their bedroom, on O'ahu. When he was happy, and didn't even know it. Unexpected as it is, Catherine can't help but laugh, but in her usual incisiveness, she has just the quip to his taunt.

"You know, this whole thing is wrong."

He looks up, thinking it's a little bit too late for such considerations. But since she's smiling, he takes the bait, weary, nonetheless. "Why?"

"If we're in the far West, it should be the Cowboys subduing the Indians, NOT the other way around."

Steve just stares at her, like she's sprung a new head. "Huh?" And he's really lost.

"Men really are one-track minded, aren't they?" And she giggles. Pointing to herself, she explains. "Cowboys," and to him, "Indian."

Suddenly, he gets it. "You think I care anything about the Redskins, right now, Cath? Yeah, right."

Steve throws her a hungry look that sends tendrils of electricity up and down her body, losing himself in her. The dim light coming in from the window, filtered through rain and dark clouds, is enough for her to want to shield herself from the intensity of his gaze, but she can't bring herself to pull away. Slowly, he moves forward, towering over her, elbows again firmly planted on the mattress to keep from hurting her. He nuzzles her neck, peppering feather light kisses on her skin, his hand sliding down over her left hip, and up again. Catherine's lips are an inch away from the base of his ear and she releases a slow sigh and then slowly pulls his head back and to the side. She takes his earlobe between her lips, gently tugging, before working her way down the ridge of his neck, randomly alternating between small nibbles and gentle kisses.

Steve laughs at her, that irresistible lopsided grin that leaves her insides on fire and she reaches for him, flicking her tongue twice along the roof of his mouth. He responds, a little groan in his throat… and the sweetness of the kiss, both tender and sexy, makes her kiss him harder, less hesitantly. As Catherine's finger tips trail down his abs, hand slipping between their bodies to squeeze at his hardness, Steve's eyes darken with lust, smirk turning almost wolfish and he moans and shudders, breathing into her mouth before returning the kiss. She bites down on his lip, no longer willing to wait for him to stop taunting her, and he can feel an arousing pain spread from his lip to his groin, lust and hunger attacking him relentlessly. He smiles at her, openly, knowingly, proud that she took the initiative and clearly wants him as much as he does her.

His mouth makes its way down her chest, the cool air of her bedroom suddenly icy against her sensitive nipples. She moves to hold his head to her, as she arches her back, pushing herself more firmly into his touch, needing to feel his mouth on her, but stifles a moan, and his eyes flare with desire at the sound. He sucks harder and her moan turns into a cry, making her shudder and whimper at the exquisite feelings washing through her, fisting her hands into his hair.

Moving up, Steve kisses her forehead and whispers "relax," gently nudging her thighs wide apart. He concentrates on her eyes, soft and overflowing with emotion, stroking her cheek and brushing back a piece of her hair. Holding her left hip carefully, he lets his thumb settle into the wedge between her thigh and pelvis, and bends her right leg to settle on the side of his chest. Steve slides into her as slowly as he can stand, drawn in like the tide, an inch deeper each time, stilling once he's buried as deep as he can go. Then he withdraws, webbing out of her, a slow drag along her inner walls until only the tip remains inside her. She cries out as her body tightens around him and her legs slowly move upwards and wrap around his waist, crossing at ankle level, pulling him deeper.

The moment he stops, she feels a strange emotion invading her, the psychological barrier between them broken; it's as though he was always meant to be where he is, as though he is the only one able to fully make her feel complete, but more than that. It's a physical feeling, too, like she wants him to stay buried within her, together with the arousal that surges through her. She can feel him inside her, waiting to move, and she's hot and languid, in absolute pleasure, with the waves of exhilaration running up her body, reaching her brain and leaving her on sensory overload. If this is what the creator intended for when two creatures merge, then she gets it. He lightly grazes her nipple with his lips; she is so sensitive, the mere touch makes her buckle forward and shove her breast unwittingly into his mouth, moaning loud enough for him to hear.

Steve still hasn't moved, trying to ignore the urge to thrust harder, tension mounting deep in his belly. Being inside her, over her, is not just an act of animal lust; it's finally becoming one with the only woman who has ever had the power to make him feel as he does. No one else has ever come close to being able to leave him in the emotional state he is in, right now, and he silently thanks her for having given in to him, eventually.

Suddenly, she wiggles against him, urging him on, so he surprises her with long, slow strokes, leaning forward and bracing his weight on the headboard, muscles in his arms strained and tense from holding himself up to not crush her. She lifts her hips and moans, meeting each of his strokes, wild with need, feeling the pull of her muscles as her body stretches to accommodate his size. So, he does it again, smirking as he hears her swear, something he's definitely not used to. Gradually, he picks up his pace until he's thrusting harder and deeper into her; his pace is so relentless, so inescapable, it reaches her deep inside, and she moves her hands to his ass, pulling both her knees together to force him deeper into her. His growled warning fails to dissuade her, and he is surprised at the pleasure and wonder in his own voice.

Their breaths quicken, pupils dilated, bodies rocking together as one in almost darkness, creating their own tempo of heat and longing. He pins her arms above her head, on the pillow, fingers intertwined, and lowers his head to her throat, kissing it and sending a hot jolt of passion down her spine. Any lingering doubts over what they're doing, or thoughts over why they shouldn't be doing it are quickly erased from her mind and nothing exists beyond this moment in time – no Lynn, no 5-0, no CIA – just Steve burning inside her, fighting against her like they were made for each other, the very fabric of their existence intermingled.

"Hey, look at me." He stops what he's doing, demanding her full attention.

"Huh?" She's ripped from her physical pleasure.

"I want to look you in the eye as we make love. I need to see that this is real, that this is really happening." Even looking her deep in the eye is an exercise in intimacy that brings his vulnerability to the fore.

"Oh, Steve..."

"I mean it. I'm in kind of a suspension of disbelief scenario, here. I need to touch you, smell you, so that my brain doesn't trick me into thinking that I'm here, making love to you, after so long, when in reality, I'm just dreaming…"

She's so overwhelmed by his words, her heart and soul are about to be ripped wide open. She finally realises that this that they're doing, right now, the passion they've let loose, tonight, is so much more than carnal lust and desire, on both their parts. It's about emotional release from something they've been holding out on for three years, always so prim and proper every time they interacted. They're giving body and soul to the other, stripped bare, consequences be damned.

Catherine's skin tingles with desire, as she kisses his mouth, slowly, reverently. Waves of heat flood her and butterflies dance through her body. Steve leans forward, grabbing her face possessively with one hand and pushes his tongue into her mouth, tasting her and letting her taste make him dizzy. He needs to slow his pace right down – it's too soon to end it – but the tension mounts, and grows, and builds, fingers trembling against her face.

Suddenly, Catherine can feel the tentative promise of a wave of pleasure between her legs, the orgasm starting to stir low in her gut and itch just under her skin. She knows that it will grow more intense with time, but she doesn't want it to develop too quickly and shatter the bond that is building between them. She looks Steve deep in the eyes, as though silently thanking him for having brought them to this moment, and slows down her movements, wanting to savour the pleasure of having him over her, inside her, making love to her. But he's not having it.

"Come for me, come on, Cath."

"Together."

"No, not yet. I want to look at you and remember. Memorize. Etch you in my brain," and he picks up his pace again. He wants her to scream his name and beg him to end this all-consuming hunger burning inside.

Her low moans, keening wails and urgent gasps grow louder, more desperate, as the pleasure builds within her, invading her without mercy and incinerating her last shreds of control. She's on fire, aching for release, about to shatter into a million pieces. Steve lifts his face to stare at her, concentrating on her eyes, soft and overflowing with emotion, feeling his body painfully hard and aroused, stumbling on the edge, unable to slow down.

Her world explodes in white light and she tenses, clenching hard around him, waves of pleasure rolling over her, unsure of where she starts and he ends. As she finally loses control, Catherine digs her fingernails into his shoulders, shaking in his arms, and arches and writhes, triggering a hot rush of contractions around him, taunting him further. Pleasure rocks through her body until she gasps for air, and the orgasm rages on, the urgency in her voice making his name come out in a drawn out soft, muffled whimper that ends with a sigh.

Steve momentarily forgets about his own pleasure and can't help but look at the woman in front of him in awe, mixed with some other emotion he can't quite place, at this precise moment. In the throes of her own orgasm, her eyes are shut and her face contorted in pleasure, and his heart swells with joy at the knowledge that he brought her to this moment, sagging into his body. He brings her down from her high slowly, carefully, grinding almost to a halt, as she gets really sensitive after she comes. He's still hard inside her, and suddenly, she opens her eyes and kisses him, encouraging him. She knows he hasn't come yet and wants him to, so she starts to grind her pelvis against him, making him shudder hard. The way his name tumbles from her lips is enough to make him finally come, face buried in her neck. They hug, and pant, and laugh, and kiss like teenagers who have just discovered the wonders of sex.


	38. Chapter 37

The radio suddenly comes to life with the familiar thumps of another of her favourite songs: "Insatiable" by Prince. She has always wondered what it would be like to actually make love to it, and the irony of what's just happened and is surely about to happen again makes her giggle, throwing her head back, tingling all over. Steve raises his head in surprise, expectantly waiting for her to explain what is so funny; he really hopes it's not one of his moves and that he hasn't lost his touch with her.

"Sorry, I'm having some weird flashbacks with the soundtrack tonight," Catherine says, laughing again, wondering if the higher powers really are giving her the go-ahead.

"Soundtrack?" he asks, thrown for a loop, her sentence the last thing he expected to hear from her mouth at this moment.

"Yeah. I love this song to death. And it's strangely appropriate for the moment, wouldn't you say?"

"What's he saying? That he's insatiable? Is that it?" Steve asks, scrunching his nose, listening intently, stopping his ministrations.

Catherine laughs again, amazed at how even distracted, he's managed to get the gist of it. She looks intently at him, amused, and starts to recite, in her best "come-hither" voice:

"No one that I've ever (…), knows how to handle my body, the way you truly do. Insatiable's my name, when it comes to you."

"Is that so, Lieutenant?" Steve asks, redirecting his attention to her, predatory grin in place, kisses peppered on her skin.

"Oh, I'm simply quoting the lyrics, that's all," she says, trying to put on a straight face, but failing miserably.

"I see. So… you're not insatiable?"

"Depends…," she says, smiling openly, happy for the banter and the break in the intensity of the situation.

"Depends? On what, exactly?"

"On who's trying to satisfy me?" Catherine suddenly turns serious, and averts her gaze, trying her damndest best to not think of Lynn again. "I'll change the tune," she says, the moment broken, starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Leave it, Cath," Steve says, stilling his hand on her hip, and looking her deep in the eye, serious too. "The man is right. I am insatiable. For you."

Just for tonight, in their little bubble of rain and thunder, she decides to believe him. Catherine reaches for his right ear and bites on it with some force, bringing her arms down and wrapping them around his shoulders. Suddenly, he straightens up, grabbing her under the knees for better leverage and carefully raises her hips for deeper access.

"You want it slow, or hard and deep?"

"Again already?"

"Yes. Again, always. What do you want?" And he smiles, proud.

"I want you." Now is the only acceptable time for her to say it, and not lose her self-love.

Overwhelmed, he lowers his head to her and she entwines her arms around his neck, just before his mouth slams down on hers with all he has. Getting a rhythm going again, he begins to slam into her at breakneck pace, the sound of his flesh on hers as loud as the rush of blood in her ears, injuries forgotten. His moans grow louder, more desperate, as the pleasure mounts, aching for release. Catherine holds onto him and closes her eyes, as she starts to feel her new orgasm strike like a lightning bolt, rocking through her core, throwing her over the edge. She cries out as her body tightens around him, bowing off the bed, body balancing with the rush of his powerful strokes. He slides his hand away from her clit when she whimpers, groaning as she starts whispering into his ear.

One, two, three more strokes, then he stiffens, buried completely inside her, his own orgasm following. His body shudders uncontrollably with the force of it, and she can feel him pulsing inside her, chanting her name. He holds on for dear life, eyes wide on her, pressing her against the mattress with the force of his release, and it's beautiful to watch his features transformed. She goes limp in his arms, sweaty, bathing in wave after wave of pleasure. Her eyes are shut from the intensity of the moment, as are his, both panting heavily. He slumps back on the mattress, and they lie side by side. She's vaguely aware of his voice, a few minutes later, whispering beautiful words of love in her ear, bringing her back down to earth from her high. Catherine tries to focus on the warmth emanating from his body and reaches for his hand, intertwining her fingers in his.

"Did I happen to mention that I really missed you?" He murmurs, happy.

"You might have showed me," she smirks, struggling to turn her face sideways and plant a chaste kiss onto his lip, to reassure him. His perfect features are shimmering with sweat. Combined with his ragged overgrown beard, he looks sexier than ever.

After a few minutes of panting hard, the cold air around them starts to dance across her naked skin, making it break out in goosebumps. Steve raises her hand to his lips and sits on the bed, reaching for the covers, and pulls them over their bodies. He snuggles closer to her and runs a hand along Catherine's side, to her midsection, protectively but also possessively, caressing her. Catherine turns slightly sideways, spooning her body with his, before placing her leg over his hip. Her free hand cups his cheek, bringing his face to her effortlessly, and they kiss, happy. In their post-coital haze, as their consciousness ebbs, theirs minds drag them into the oblivion of sleep.


	39. Chapter 39

"_Between her legs quivers and moistens with longing_

_He enters her and they become one_

_Their bodies meld, their souls mesh, _

_She floats in ecstasy before waves of pleasure push and pull her back into her body_

_They both explode within, collapsing together, spent and unified."_

"_**The Great, S1"**_

* * *

**Catherine Rollins' Flat**

**Washington, D.C.**

**1015 hours, next morning**

Sensing the night has waned, Catherine slowly becomes aware of the hustle and bustle of the street below. She yawns, pressing her eyelids together, trying to shut away the brightness of the sun seeping through the small holes in the blinds, otherwise plunging the room in shade. Stretching her legs towards the bottom of the bed, she smiles, feeling an incredible satisfaction in that action, before a slight pang of pain in her belly causes her to contract her abdominal muscles. Breath catching in her throat, it makes her grimace and lightly moan. Immediately, her mind starts working on overdrive to try to pinpoint the cause of the pain, but she can recall no recent injury or physical blow during her last mission in that particular area of her anatomy.

Suddenly, the events of the night before flood her mind and her first reaction is to spread a smile across her flushing cheeks and stretch her arms forward, mimicking her previous leg action. She knows that Steve is probably lying next to her, on the bed, and that he's also probably awake, since she was the one who needed the extra hours of sleep she probably took advantage of. Catherine tentatively extends her arm to the alarm clock, and it comes to life, softly playing a song that she immediately recognizes and associates with Hawai'i, every time she hears it - 'Taken', by Josh Tatofi. She's immediately transported to a lazy afternoon on Steve's private beach, listening to the shallow surf softly die on the shore and him next to her, contentedly sleeping, hand on her abdomen and a smile on his lips. Then, everything had seemed possible, even imagining a life together in paradise not a stretch of the imagination. But ultimately... because of her inability to stay put for long, or his inability to discuss feelings in general and both their futures in particular, the dream had died, shriveled up by the harsh reality of soldier's mentalities and a whole lot of insecurities.

Not wanting to entertain sad thoughts at this moment, endorphins still running though her body, her mind wanders back to the night before. Despite her anger, she has made peace with her decision to let herself go and enjoy her night of intense passion with Steve, the only man who's ever made her feel like this. '_Public service by the head of 5-0, no less'_, she thinks, lips curving upwards again. Slowly, Catherine blinks blearily, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, and looks sideways, towards his side of the bed. She is not disappointed to find him propped up on his arm, looking at her sleeping form, albeit with a concerned expression on his face.

"Stop leering at me, Commander" She murmurs, huffing amusedly, loving the old monikers they used to share.

"I'm not leering, I'm just…" he hesitates, searching for the right word. "Committing you to memory. Fondly remembering."

"I'm surprised you're still here…" she smiles and closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.

"I can't tell, is that a good or a bad thing?" Steve asks, smiling ironically, eyes fixated on her lips and feeling an uncontrollable urge to kiss her. He wants to hear her answer, though, so he doesn't, instead running his hand up her thigh.

Catherine opens her eyes fully and bends her head sideways and backwards on the pillow, furrowing her brows and looking attentively at him. She sighs and raises her left hand, reaching for her hair and pulls it back from her face, trying to decide how to answer his question, slightly annoyed, not exactly sure what he's really asking.

"I thought I'd been pretty clear last night, you know... all three times. You haven't turned into one of those insecure little boys who have to hear how well they performed all the time, have you?"

"Uh, I believe you'll find that it was actually five times, young lady… wall, sofa, sofa, bed, bed," Steve says, smug look on his face, eyebrows up and down, enumerating with the fingers in his left hand.

"Wow, conceited much? And keeping score? I'd just about forgotten the wall… it hardly counts for me, you know?" Catherine says, dismissive, putting on a serious face but barely managing to control her laughter.

"Counts for me… can't help it if you forgot what counts as sex or not," he laughs, happy for their light banter. "But, huh… I'm happy to remind you, again." He throws her a sexy, irresistible smile as his hand glides further up on her thigh. She returns a look of warning.

"I can tell this whole counting thing is important, for you… what is it? Am I attacking your masculinity?"

Smiling, he reaches for her lips and kisses her, while keeping his hand on her thigh, remembering a favourite spot of hers.

"I think I'm going to remind you again just how threatened in my masculinity I really am."

Catherine moves her leg away from Steve's hand quickly, to tease him, but another shooting pain in her abdomen makes her suddenly hiss. The playful tone of their exchange is over.

"Cath, what's wrong? Any injury you didn't tell me about last night?" Steve says, eyes pleading, still calm, but worried.

"No, I'm fine," she replies looking him in the eye, so he can see she's not hiding anything from him. "It's just… it's fine, it's nothing," she dismisses his concern with a flick of the hand.

"Catherine." He gives her a warning look, tone now serious. "Please," he finishes, rubbing her shoulder with the hollow of his free hand, as though trying to coax her into to opening up.

"You broke me," she says jokingly, smiling, thinking back to the night before, happy.

"Huh?" he asks, looking intently at her, with concern.

"Nothing, just some discomfort, that's all," she knits her eyebrows together and shakes her head. But Steve can't let it go.

"Discomf… are you in pain?" he presses, now uncomfortable.

"Pfft, please, this is nothing, compared to most of the pain I've felt in my life," she huffs ironically.

"Wait a minute, but… why are you in pain?"

"You do remember what we did last night, right?" Catherine looks at him with a questioning look, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken.

"Cath, I was extra careful not to hurt you in the places you're bruised or stitched..."

"Look, you didn't hurt me, I just needed to adjust, that's all..."

"Adjust to what?" Steve says, uncomprehending.

She sighs, really uncomfortable now. "You?"

"I don't get it, Cath. Please, come on," he replies, now frustrated at her sudden shyness. Totally out of place, after what they had done the night before, he thinks.

Catherine's slightly embarrassed. "Wow, men really are oblivious, huh? I can't believe I'm going to have to spell it out." He waits patiently for her explanation, not moving a muscle. She sighs, resigned. "Fine. I haven't had sex in a while. So I needed to take time to physically adjust to you. We weren't exactly slow or gentle, you know."

Suddenly, Steve opens his eyes wide. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I was kind of rough with you, huh? Why didn't you tell me to take it easy, last night? If you were in pain, you should've told me… I guess I got carried away and forgot about your injuries, in the heat of the moment. I'm sorry," he says, pained expression on his face.

Sitting up, eyes scanning her, he slowly pulls the sheets back, as though she might have some injuries he, the Navy SEAL, her superior, could tend to. But Steve's not reasoning like that, at the moment. The woman he's finally allowed himself to admit to loving, last night - albeit to himself only - was in some degree of pain, and it was his fault.

"Steve, you didn't make any of my injuries worse, relax." And she looks sincere enough.

"OK, then… so what are you trying to tell me?" Confused, he tries to think back to the haze of the night before, ashamed of himself for possibly having hurt her, on top of her injuries. He comes up blank, remembering only how liberating and exhilarating it had felt to hold her in his arms and love her, after so long. Catherine lets him pursue his train of thought, amused, and waits for him to finish his 'inspection'. She pulls the sheets back up to her shoulders once he seems to be done, shivering, but not wanting to give out the impression that she's ashamed of her nudity in front of him. She then reaches for his hand and squeezes it, bringing his attention back to her.

"Hey, look at me. I'm not a porcelain doll, OK? What happened last night was on both of us, you didn't 'do it to me', we 'did it' to each other. We both wanted it, and it was fantastic," she says, winking playfully at him. "Stop worrying about that. If I had been in pain, believe me, you'd have known. But you know the kind of life I lead, so after going without for a while, it's natural for all this" – she motions in the direction of her abdomen – "to need to adjust. It's also biology. Nothing to worry or stress about, OK?" she looks pointedly at him, hoping they can change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed. However honest she wants to be with him, there are limits to the necessity, she thinks.

"Cath, despite all that," he says, smiling too, "it's not normal for you to be in pain. We should've taken things slower. I'm sorry."

"Would you have been able to act differently, last night? Because I sure as hell doubt I would've. Besides, pain was the least of what I got, so…" she says, winking at him again, trying to lighten the mood and get him to relax at the prospect of having hurt her, however unwittingly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Steve throws her a naughty smile, lying back down and protectively covering her midsection with his arm.

"Well… we kind of lost control. I very much doubt that we would've been able to calm down, or take it easy…" Catherine explains, trying to share the burden of her pain. "Did you know that engaging in any sexual position other than missionary is illegal, here in D.C.?" she says, laughing, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation. She eyes him, but he seems absorbed in thought.

"How long?" he finally feels the need to ask.

She sighs, half expecting the question sooner or later. "You picked up on that, huh? Ever perceptive about the details, Steve McGarrett... Look, I don't think we've regained that level of intimacy, so it's not something I want to share with you. Suffice it to say, it's been a while, OK?"

"Wow..." And his smug smile speaks volumes.

"Oh, my God, Steve! Don't you dare be happy about it!"

"Can't help it, Cath." He turns serious, curiosity getting a hold of him. "What's 'a while'? Wait, have you not dated, all this time?"

"What if I haven't?" And she's getting defensive. It's her life, after all. She doesn't have to justify, to him or to anybody, who she sleeps with. Or doesn't.

"Catherine, please, can you give me a straight answer?"

"Steve, I left. Beyond that point, our fates diverged. We both moved on."

He snorts at the obvious bidirectional fallacy in her thought process. "Clearly, you didn't. But when you were last on the island, you told me you were dating..."

Catherine throws him a condescending look. "Really? What was I supposed to say?" She pulls on the sheets, uncomfortable with how much she's shared. Her eyes wander south on his body and land on his chest. Fond memories invade her and she smiles, more to herself than to him, reminiscing the happy times they used to share.

Not sure what's going through her mind, he decides to move away from their conversation at the time and opts for the teasing approach, smiling at her, returning the provocation. "Stop leering at me."

This time, her smile turns sweet. "You're one to talk…" But she's still lost in her memories, and her eyes keep going lower, distractedly, until she makes out a line, slightly darker than his skin tone, shinier, more or less visible, starting at the bottom of his sternum. As she starts to pay attention, scanning her brain for a previous reference to such a scar in such a location and not finding it, she gets increasingly more alarmed at being able to trace the line without interruption and it apparently never ending. She's staring, now, eyes wide, absorbed in thought, looking down towards his abdomen and veering left a few inches above his navel, where the scar disappears, headed for his back.

"It's called a Cherney incision."

Brought back to reality, her eyes dart up to meet his. There are unshed tears threatening to fall, and a big question in her face, but she's trying to be tough.

"What happened, Steve?"

He sighs, annoyed that she saw the scar now, or maybe annoyed that he always felt too proud to tell her he'd almost died. Or sorry that she apparently never happened to be in the States when his shooting had taken place, because it had made big news in the Military grapevine and he knows she still has ties to their former world. It tallies, though – he knows her work is mostly overseas, and imagines it probably entails months under cover, chasing after targets and terrorist Organisations, so the likelihood of her not having heard is high. Now, the tale of what happened will surely put a damper on their limited time together, and he has things he wants to say and answers he wants to get that are much more important than what happened to make him need a transplant.

"Work," he finally answers, with a shrug of the shoulders. Catherine rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, huffing slightly. "A work related injury."

He hopes this will be enough, but not even he believes in this possibility. Catherine goes perfectly still, serious, eyes boring into his, waiting for more. Whether or not she understands that this is all he is willing to share is not clear to him. What is clear is that his explanation won't be enough. He sighs again, not wanting to go into a subject that he's dealt with and safely and securely packed up in a locked drawer, in his mind, a while ago.

"I guess I should tell you what happened."

"You think?" She's being ironic, but what she feels is anger.

"It was about a year after you left…" and he looks for a reaction, the unwelcome memory invading him, but gets none. "Danny and I were pretending to be drug runners. I was flying a Cessna, and suddenly, out of nowhere, in mid-air, an unidentified helicopter shows up on my left. The door opens and a guy starts shooting at us, like machine gun shooting at us. So, I was hit in the shoulder and abdomen."

"Sorry, you what?" And she can't really believe her ears. "You were shot… while flying the plane?"

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun," Steve goes on, huffing ironically. "I suffered a 'devastating trauma', the bullet fragmented into multiple shards and my liver was shot to pieces."

"Destroyed?" Catherine's eyes are wide, expectant, and her breathing almost comes to a halt. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest.

"Yeah. In a nutshell, I needed a transplant. Everyone volunteered, but Danny and I have the same blood type and his serotyping ended up matching mine, thank God, because there was no time to look for a donor. Basically, he was a match. So he donated a part of his liver to me. This is the scar from the liver transplant."

She remembers to breathe again. "Oh, my God. Why didn't you… how come I never knew…?"

"You were gone. What were the guys supposed to do? Give you a call and let you know? Where to, to start with?" He realises he could've worded his sentence better. Besides, Lynn had been there by his side the moment she had returned from a trip to Maui, so Catherine's presence would've been awkward, at best.

Catherine ignores his anger and reaches for his hand, caressing it. He moves over to her and lays his head on her chest.

"Had they called, I would've come. Just because I left, that does not mean that I stopped being your friend or stopped caring about what happens to you. I told you this once before. Although…" Catherine suddenly remembers why coming would not have been a viable option and realises why probably 5-0 had never called her. After all, they all thought she was gone, never to return to their lives.

Chastised, he looks away, pained. "I'm sorry. I thought I was going to die on that plane. Afterwards, during the recovery, there were times when I…" And Steve closes his eyes, wanting to shoo the pain away.

This time, her hands reach for the nape of his neck and she lightly runs her fingers through his hair. "What?" She lowers her head to him and lays it on his. His smell makes her feel reassured, calm, soothed and protected. Always has.

In turn, her touch is so soothing, it almost lessens his pain and makes the subject more bearable to talk about. "I wished you were there, by my side."

Catherine closes her eyes, her insides hurting, imagining what he'd gone through. The mere fact that he's telling her this means they've really come a long way from that fateful day when she had come to his house, out of the blue, and surprised him on a dinner date with his new girlfriend. Steve's not the type to share facts that may perceivably put him in a position of fragility.

"After I pulled through, I did a lot of soul searching while I was laid up at Tripler. I had a long time to think about my life, my choices, regrets… and not proposing was definitely up there on the list. Or rather, taking too long to do it."

"Steve…" Catherine lets his name fall from her lips with a sense of uneasiness; after all, dredging up the past serves no purpose. But he ignores her plea.

"One afternoon, the day before I left the hospital, I met a fellow law enforcement officer whose wife was undergoing surgery. They'd been married for 45 years. 45 years, Cath! I couldn't even make one serious relationship work, let alone…"

"Come on, Steve! Look, I understand the temptation of comparing ourselves with others that appear to have achieved more than us, but really? You, of all people? Not to mention the fact that you did achieve quite a lot in that area, specifically. I myself loved you for over a decade, that's no small feat!"

He veers his head backwards, at her, and the question that he's afraid of asking lingers in the air. Catherine senses his unanswered question and moves on from her statement.

"Can I ask, what changed in your life? You're still in the reserves, right?"

"Yeah, I was allowed to remain. I need to take rejection meds for the rest of my life. Basically, they lower my immunity so that the new liver isn't recognised by my body as an invader. Which means I am more prone to other types of infections. And one day, hopefully never, I may need another liver. I am hoping Danny's is so stubborn, it'll never want to stop making me behave." He chuckles slightly, to lighten the mood of the heavy revelation.

"Wow…" Catherine contemplates the magnitude of what happened, sorry for everything that Steve went through, but mostly sorry for not having been there. Perhaps her biggest regret is having been replaced in the role of caregiver by the next woman. The same woman who still holds the bragging rights to Steve's heart and home. But she doesn't linger on it for long, because he's not done.

"In the interests of full disclosure, I guess I should also tell you that I got exposed to some radiation."

"You what?" And the hits just keep on coming. Catherine turns sideways and looks Steve in the eye.

"Yeah. I may develop cancer down the line. Most likely, thyroid cancer." He's trying to make light of the situation with a shrug of the shoulders, but she just stares at him, in a panic.

"Oh, my God… more? What happened?"

"Oh, you know, the world was going to end if Danny and I didn't defuse a bomb. Except… it had a live uranium core. We were in a remote part of the island, no cell service for a while, so we actually had to drive to a clearing to be able to call the Navy bomb squad. With 10 minutes to spare, it was an adventure," he laughs, remembering. "All we had was an old, beat up car, so we turned it sideways and removed the battery to wrap around my chest. I then managed to remove the uranium core with help from the expert before the bomb went off. I figured I should do it - Danny has a daughter and a son. I don't have anyone who depends on me like that." And as he says it, she feels his eyes on her, as though completing the idea, _'because you left and we never got round to getting married and having kids.'_

"Jesus Christ. I do remember seeing you take regular meds in Montana, but I never thought…" Catherine closes her eyes again and breathes deeply. "And what about the radiation? What's being done about it?"

He sighs, not wanting to taint their bubble together with sad thoughts of what may come. But since he brought the subject up, he may as well tell her. This way, he will never have to go back to this conversation. "Nothing's 'being done', I had some spells a few months after, went to the doctor, he told me there is a '100% chance I will experience side effects down the road'," he makes air quotes. "Y_ears_ down the road, possibly. So I have regular checkups. If I develop cancer, then we'll deal with it. There's nothing I can do to prevent it."

He shrugs his shoulders and knits his brows, as if to say "whatever." If he's honest with himself, he's scared. Scared that his revelations will somehow make her rethink any decision of getting back together with him. They haven't even sat down to talk, properly, but he knows what he ultimately wants from her. What he was denied, over three years ago. It shines out like a beacon in a dark storm, the happy feeling pulling him in.

His irrational fears, however, are unfounded. Catherine lies back down on his chest, mulling over the information, hand distractedly rubbing circles over his skin. She quickly decides there's nothing she can do about what he just told her, so she stores the information to worry about later. Right now, she wants him, the craving taking hold of her with fierce brutality, suddenly needing to remind him that he's very much alive. Catherine knows Steve too well, so she knows that he's feeling vulnerable and exposed for having shared these news with her. Maybe just for today, she can make him forget all about it.

She raises herself on her right elbow and looks Steve in the eye, adoringly. Amused, his eyes roam her body, up and down, and land on her mouth, coaxing her to him. As their lips almost connect, he bumps his nose against hers, lost in her eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Cath," Steve says, raising his hand and starts caressing her arm, as though thanking her for trying to make him feel better.

Catherine knows what he's doing, and she actually feels uncomfortable with the thought. She sits up and, swinging a leg over him, straddles his thighs and splays a hand over his chest, leaning over him. His hands touch her cheek gently, reverently, eyes intense, pulling her hair away from her face. Her heart is beating almost out of her chest; this is more intense than anything that happened last night, and that's saying something. The emotion in his eyes is almost unbearable to her; he's telling her so much with them, so she averts hers, almost crying out of sadness that he's never been able to tell her how he feels, to her face. He senses her inner turmoil and pulls her chin up with his index finger, smiling irresistibly at her.

"If only we could stay like this forever…" he sighs, resigned, wishing he could tell her everything he came here to say. But suddenly, the fear of rejection grips at him like a vice, not letting go. Deep, deep down, he knows there is a chance these really are their last moments together like this, in this lifetime, so he wants to hold onto her and never let go.

"Now, where would be the fun in that? No more SEALS? Navy? Five-0? Ohana?"

He looks at her again, serious, but takes a minute to form an answer he can live with, tomorrow. Catherine bends down and kisses him on the lips, obliterating any thought he might've been on the verge of expressing, his body already beginning to respond to her.

He grabs her arms. "Cath, hold on…" And she whimpers against his lips when he doesn't yield to her. She stops and looks at him.

"What?"

"You're hurting AND really sore. I don't want to make it worse, or…"

"Steve," Catherine says, trying to make him see reason. "Look, I am familiar with the whole caveman-protection thing, but I'm my own woman. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, now, so you don't have to worry about that."

He caresses her face, pensive. "I know you can take care of yourself, Cath. But I don't want to be the means of causing you any more pain, that's all. You should get some rest, this morning."

"OK… so what'll you do about your little problem, here?" She retorts, amused, scooting back a sliver and making contact with his bulging flesh, taunting him.

Steve reaches for her backside, firmly, and pulls her an inch towards him, annoyed. "You let me worry about that. Why don't you try to get some more sleep?"

Catherine snorts amusedly at him. "Really? You think that I'm going to sleep while you are in my bed, naked and hard? Seriously?" And she shimmies back to her previous position, his body soft against her heated skin, but his proud arousal growing hard, making her tingle with delight.

Steve growls warningly at her, feeling his control slip through his fingers. "You know, Catherine, I pride myself on having a lot of self-control, but not with you and certainly not with you doing that." He would've thought that, after the night before, his hunger for her would've abated somewhat, but it's back in full force, strong as ever, if not stronger.

"Good, then, we are in agreement," she smiles and dives back down, looking for his lips.

Holding her arms, he moves his head right and looks her deep in the eye. "But I still think you need to rest. After what you told me, just now, I couldn't, in all conscience, go through with this again. I don't want to screw anything up," he says, motioning between them.

Amused, she makes fun of his concern. "Clearly…" And a giggle escapes her, making him relax. "You let me worry about myself, OK? You're being too serious, lighten up, this is just morning sex between two consenting adults."

At her last sentence, he gets angry, pulling her down to him, eyes boring into hers, locked as if by an unbreakable physical force. "You think I don't want to be inside you too damn much I can taste it?" Just the thought makes him whimper. "Don't you dare reduce this to 'scratch-an-itch sex' with the next available woman, OK? I am worried about your injuries. That I helped make worse." His words are harsh, the tension in his voice tenable.

She struggles until she's sitting up straight and clambers off his lap, now feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also bereft at losing his touch. "And I already told you, don't! You can skip the 'dreamy lover boy act', I am not a delicate flower. So you either want to fuck me again, or you don't. Make up your mind."

He grabs a hold of her arm and next her midsection, delicately, and pulls her to the bed, pinning her partially under him. "And I already told you, I won't fuck you. I do, however, want to make love to you. But on my terms."

Desire spirals right through her at his words, a lightning of adrenaline pumping through her body, starting with a tingling in her lips, and making its way down to her abdomen, toes curling with anticipation. His look is serious, but Catherine can tell he's feeling emotional, a rare sight for her. So she gives in to him, as she stills her movements and partially closes her eyes, taking in a breath to control her shaky voice.

"Fine. On your terms. Do with me what you will," she says, mouth dry, swallowing nervously and licking her lips.

Catherine giving in to him, after three years, is one of the most powerful ego trips Steve has ever experienced. It's not like Catherine is like his last girlfriend – or most other women who roam this earth – in that he is clearly superior in terms of physical strength and survival skills. She is his match, but the fact that she is willing to relinquish control, surrender to him, and let him worry about, and take care of, her, makes his insides melt. On a primal level, all men want to be in control. Steve smiles at her and bends down, lips brushing lightly against her cheek – and the light touch heightens her desperation with the threat of feathers, instead of bodies pressed together. Steve grazes his mouth against the hollow of her temple, then traces the line of her cheekbone, ending on her lips. He kisses her harder, deeper, with a fervent, desperate need she's never known before, until she realises she'll never have enough of him.

A thousand different positions play in Steve's mind, on how he wants to take her, body burning, but suddenly, the answer is staring him right in the face. He pulls her over his body carefully, holding her backside firmly as she straddles his waist. He trails his hands down her back until he touches himself deliberately, eyes never wavering from hers, and she curves her lips upwards, overwhelming excitement and pride welling inside her.

Sliding herself down his waist again, Catherine reaches around, covering his hand with hers. Slowly, she slides her hand down until she touches him, and pulls his up and out, guiding him back inside her. A gasp escapes their lips in unison, as she sinks herself down on him, head arched back in ecstasy. Steve again grabs her waist tenderly, to control her speed, stilling for a full minute, deep inside her. Carefully, tentatively, he raises his legs slightly to protect her back and starts to move extremely slowly, setting their pace, never forgetting her injuries.

Waist held down, she wants to make him thrust harder, faster, but she also knows that it's no use. He's in full Alpha-male mode, right now, and protective, to boot, so that means he's in charge. That, in and of itself, is not a deterrent, because she knows she could make him change his mind, if she wanted to. But yielding to him is strangely erotic, and after years of working alone, making her own decisions and running so many risks in her life, it feels good to, for once, relinquish control to him. Catherine has no problem with that concept – she's independent and secure enough to not even let such a thing enter her mind. So, allowing him to take the lead is a turn on, for her.

And slow love too, as it turns out, as she rides him unhurried and easy, stroking languidly up and down to match his slow, teasing strokes, driving him wild. His body aches with hunger, giving into the erotic pleasure of holding back, pausing for an instant inside her and making that slight circular motion she loves. Steve sits up and his mouth finds her nipple again, before moving up and kissing her with his usual dominating passion, pushing his tongue past her lips and claiming her mouth as his own.

As Catherine continues to move her hips rhythmically, building momentum, she picks up the pace, now with some urgency. Steve smiles arrogantly as she continues to grind against him, body jerking back and forth, desperately seeking release. She braces a hand on his chest to lever herself upward, moaning loudly, crying out his name. Suddenly, she loses control of her movements, pulse racing, orgasm too close for her to stop, her pain a remote gnawing feeling, somewhere undefined.

Steve also shudders with each new wave of arousal, on the verge of his own release, but he controls himself, slowing down his thrusting until the feeling momentarily passes. His body moves against hers slowly, and he's enthralled by the face of the woman that his heart swells with pride at bringing to this moment. The sweet sensation keeps building up, spiraling higher, until it is close to consuming them completely, plunging them into an intense vortex of delight, wiping away everything else. Nothing and no one else exists in the Universe, at this moment.

Catherine rocks herself against him even harder, and suddenly, she breathes out, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her entire body starts to shudder. She wants to cry out, but the squeal gets stuck in her throat as pleasure breaks over her. She can feel him stretching her and it burns a bit, making her moan at the slight pain it causes, but it feels good, more than it hurts. She loves the feeling, it turns their coupling into something more primal, after all, there's no pleasure without pain. Her muscles contract against him in orgasm, making her sink into him again. He jerks, too, his body bucking convulsively beneath her warm, silken weight.

This time, she can't articulate words, shaking badly, while tears spill out of the corners of her eyes. He moves up and kisses them away so tenderly, she wants to cry again. They just stare at each other, and she feels so damn naked, right now, she can't take his eyes boring into hers, as it gives her no chance to hide her emotions. Steve, however, senses this reaction on her part, and reaches for her chin, raising it with his hand, making her look at him and believe whatever it is that he's trying to tell her without words, opening up his silent soul to her.

They lie there, for a while, until their labored breathing starts to subside. Steve tilts his body slightly until she turns to that side, pulling her body into him again, as they spoon. He strokes her hair gently, calming her, wrapping his arms around her tenderly, and kisses the crook of her neck, pulling the covers over them. A few minutes later, her eyes begin to droop, despite her desire to stay awake. Steve can sense her breathing evening out and can tell she's fallen asleep again. He knows she's still tired from the night before, from jetlag, from Afghanistan, so he kisses her lightly on the lips, and lets her rest as he had originally intended.


	40. Chapter 40

_"As if you were on fire from within, the moon lives in the lining of your skin." __**Pablo Neruda**_

* * *

In the afterglow of making love to the woman lying next to him, Steve tries to reign in his emotions, but is unable. They are all over the place, he feels out of control, but in a good way. Every sensation, when he's with her, is magnified to levels that he never experienced, when he'd dated Lynn. He hasn't felt this happy, genuinely happy, in a long time, even though he has no idea where what happened the night before and just now will take them. It's like a piece of his physical, but also mental and emotional puzzle, that has been incomplete for such a long time, has finally clicked into place, seamlessly and without effort, allowing him to function at full capacity, something he hasn't done in a long time. He's merely been going through the motions like a robot, trying to hold his ends together, so he doesn't break apart. And the feeling has been ever present, as though falling into a precipice was a danger always on the back of his mind and he needed to make a herculean effort to keep that from happening. But now, the feeling of doom is gone. He feels like he can move unshackled again. There is hope for the future, hope that he may finally be able to achieve that all important happiness with the woman he loves.

Suddenly, his mind is transported back to the day she had left. He wonders how he could've let her go without a fight. Didn't he know, then, that she was the one and only his heart ached for, the best thing that had ever happened to him? Was every other distraction loud enough to not have allowed him time to think about what she meant to him? And then… he'd added insult to injury and deluded himself into thinking that another love was just the thing he needed, after she'd shattered his heart into a million pieces. He'd been angry, humiliated, confused, in pain, and he did not deal well with rejection. She'd left without a decent explanation. Without any regard for his feelings, or for the fact that he loved her so much that he was getting ready to propose. He only had eyes for her. There'd been plenty of women who had told him, in no uncertain terms, that they wanted to date him, ever since they'd met. Even despite knowing that he was in a committed relationship with Catherine. So, he either played the oblivious card or didn't engage in any explanations. His relationship status was proudly there, for all to see.

Maybe his almost attempt at making her his wife was made 1000 times worse by the fact that he hadn't even managed to propose. He'd bought the ring, he'd planned the 'op'. She'd left before he'd gotten the chance to ask, it almost felt as though she'd ran away from him. He doesn't buy her _"I would've said yes"_, he knows that when she got to Hawai'i, for Kono's wedding, her position with the CIA had already been arranged. And even his personal satisfaction, at the time, at having been able to hold onto his pride because she never even knew that he was getting ready to propose had been an illusion. Who cares if he'd managed to retain his dignity? He'd lost her in the end! She was the prize, not his pride. He'd preferred one over the other, and he'd been suffering the full brunt of the consequences of his choice for years. Purposefully numbing his heart to emotions and feelings, going through the motions, trying to never let his mind wander in her direction, naïvely dating someone else in hopes of forgetting her… for what? To keep himself from coming after her? Because that would make him seem weak, in her eyes? Or his own? Because he's been so happy, all this time, he huffs ironically. Instead of just chasing after her once and for all, trying to find out her reasons and just letting her know that she was the one. He hadn't fooled her, or escaped humiliation – he'd fooled himself, shot himself in the foot.

Disturbed by his thoughts, Steve sits at the edge of the bed, sinking his head in his hands. He can feel his emotions begin to wrap up around him, again, self-preservation coming to the fore, like a familiar, restricting straightjacket. They feel as heavy as ever, only this time, after the love and laughter he and Catherine have just shared, the weight feels intolerable, crushing his chest. He's not a naïve man. Their personal circumstances have not changed substantially and she's told him, enough times, that she is happy with the life she leads and the job that she does. Their brief time together may have been nothing more than a window, a break in the time continuum, postponing the inevitable. It was written in the cosmos, it had to happen, but now, will it become nothing more than a memory between them? He's been cowardly running away from this truth for years, loaded with regret that she may confirm his deepest fears.

Steve gets up, fidgety, and decides it's time to break away from the shackles and talk. Lay his heart out, once and for all. He needs her laughter, her lightness, her tenderness. Having made up his mind, relieved, he goes in search of the kitchen, to make them some breakfast while she sleeps.


	41. Chapter 41

"_Our love story is epic, spanning years and Continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed. EPIC."_

**Logan Echols, Veronica Mars**

* * *

**Catherine Rollins' Flat**

**Washington, D. C.**

**1223 hours**

Waking up again, alone, Catherine sighs dejectedly, wondering for a millisecond if it was all imagined. In the cold, harsh, morning light, the significance of what happened hits her like a ton of bricks, making her feel uncomfortable with herself.

After leaving Hawai'i, her love life had been left in limbo, and few were the times she had willingly stopped to think about what it all meant. The subject was painful to her and don't we tend to simply shy away from stuff that causes us pain? There had been some pretenders, yes. But due to the nature of the job, at first, Catherine had wanted to focus entirely on getting used to the work that was required of her, leaving the US to go on dangerous assignments, alone. When life had settled, somewhat, and she'd been able to find some routine in her chaos, she still hadn't wanted to date or have one night stands – they made no sense to her. She'd had the best, a love that would've only required some compromise to fulfil her, and she knew there would never be anyone else like him. So, she'd been faced with two very simple, straightforward options: ignore that fact and look for solace in other beds, or just assume that, in this lifetime, he was it for her and bury herself in work and forget men existed.

At some point, in one of her rare 'thinking about life's regrets' moments, the thought had occurred to her, that maybe she was punishing herself, subconsciously, for leaving a potentially perfect life behind. But the knowledge of her restless nature had somewhat abated that guilt, and Steve's reaction had further justified her actions. However, time had given her the necessary distancing and allowed her to relativise events and decisions. Looking back, she realises that her need to wander the world had had to be answered, at the time and that had she stayed, she doesn't even know if she'd still be his wife anymore, or even happy. But the years have passed and maybe her wandering need has lessened. Or she's learnt to forgive herself for things she can't control, like Billy's death. Or maybe she's finally admitted to herself that she still wants him, despite time, distance and unspoken words. Maybe theirs is not a common love story. Maybe he's her... what was it people say? Soulmate? Endgame? Maybe they are meant to meet again as partners in another life.

She sighs, annoyed that their timing always seems to be off. After Montana, things had changed... she knew it, and so did he. But she had never expected him to act on those changes. Sure, the best case scenario had crossed her mind. The one where he was no longer attached to the blonde that had occupied his heart and living room when she'd last been to his place. But he'd said nothing, made no indication of such a romantic status change and let's face it, if there ever was a time to have mentioned it, it would've been Montana. And then, Danny had confirmed her worst suspicions, gleefully warning her to back off.

Steve wasn't the kind of man to have bold gestures when it came to his heart; in fact, she suspected that was one of the reasons she had ultimately decided to leave Hawai'i and go work for the CIA. He... settled, for lack of a better word. He had been unable to ask her to stay, to tell her he loved her to her face – in 10+ years -, to say that she was the one and that he wanted HER and no other. Even if he had secretly been planning to propose - it might've been borne out of normalcy, as the next step to take and only that. Not as a gesture spurned from the ardent desire to live the rest of his life with her, and her alone. Looking at things coldly, from her perspective, it's almost as though any woman would do. So long as there was one. And she didn't demand much from him - time or romantic declarations. She had ultimately felt like she was... filling a gap. Not because she was the ONE, the only one he could share his space and heart with, but because she was convenient. She was there. They felt comfortable with each other, they were used to each other. So she had left. And had hoped, for a while after that, that despite his declaration of unwillingness to wait for her, he would. More, that he would chase after her. What woman doesn't like to be told, ONCE, that she is loved, to her face? But instead, he had let her go and held onto his pride. So if she wasn't worth being chased, she'd prefer to be alone. Sometimes it was best. Not that she had managed to forget him, that was a whole different department. Thus, her lack of willingness to enter into a romantic relationship with another man. Steve had left an indelible mark on her heart, one that, by now, she suspected she would never be able to erase. Then again, she didn't know if she really wanted to or had truly tried.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen to have a drink of water, thoughts swirling in her head. When she reaches the threshold, she spots Steve in front of the stove, clad only in boxers, cooking. She leans against the door jamb, crosses her arms and smiles, reveling in the vision in front of her, waiting for him to notice that he's no longer alone. Her eyes roam the expanse of his body, while she remembers everything he made her feel when he finally managed to get her to give in to him, and a smile spreads again through her cheeks, regrets and sorrows forgotten. Steve is also smiling, oblivious to her presence, focused on what he's doing. He turns to grab something from a supermarket bag, on the counter and finally notices her. His sly smile grows wider as he ambles towards her, lazily, and his arms circle her waist, reaching for her lips to kiss her with gusto.

"Hey, Lieutenant," he says, smug, never letting go of her body.

"Hi, Commander," looking at him sideways, she throws him a lopsided smile, loving the old monikers they used to share.

"Hungry?" he asks, moving his eyebrows up and down, in a suggestive manner. "I went out for some eggs. We weren't going to repeat the frustration of Montana all over again. This time we'll have everything our hearts desire," he concludes, smiling, hinting at so much more than food.

"You're... making breakfast?" Catherine asks, pretending she hasn't noticed how at ease he seems to be in her kitchen.

"Yeah... figured you might need some sustenance, after last night and this morning..." He smiles openly at her, never letting go.

"Really? Why? What happened last night that might make me hungry?" She throws back at him, the picture of innocence.

"Well, you know... there was a lot of physical exercise going on... that makes people tired, and hungry."

"So... you're saying I'm hungry AND tired? Because of all the physical exercise I did yesterday and this morning?"

"WE did", he corrects her, making a point.

"Doesn't ring a bell, sorry, no. And I'm fine, not tired or hungry," Catherine counters, shaking her head, serious.

"Cath..." Steve warns, feigning offence.

"What? I don't remember anything happening that could possibly make me hungry. The physical exercise was average, like a 10 minute run, and that was it," she counters, turning away from him, smiling to herself.

"Is that so? Not what you said, regarding the lack of physical exercise you've been voting yourself to, during the last couple of years..." He's fishing, but she doesn't take the bait and confirm how long it's been. He pulls her arm, stopping her from moving, and wraps his arm around her waist.

"Two different things, you know? In that department, last night didn't ruffle any of my feathers," Catherine says, a look of mischief crossing her features.

"Well then," Steve says, a disarming smile crossing his, "I guess I'll have to tire you out this morning. Again."

"Not if it's going to be a repeat of last night..." Catherine says, laughing. "Steve McGarrett, losing his touch! Ouch!"

He laughs and decides to play. "What I'm hearing you say is that you're not happy with my performance, is that it?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows and waving his index finger between him and Catherine.

"What I'm saying is that it did not have the... expected effect."

"I see... How about we terminate the experience, then, since I did not measure up to your exacting standards?" he says and moves away from her, to crack a few eggs onto a bowl, reaching for a drop of milk. His absence makes her shiver with longing.

"Ah, Commander... I did not remember you being like this, giving up on the first hurdle..."

"I'm not 'giving up', as you put it. I KNOW my performance was up to par. But your standards are so exacting I might as well pack up my bag of tricks and leave. You know what they say, "there's no pleasing some people, no matter how hard you try..."

"Thanks for not going with the obvious "If you're not happy with my performance, someone else might appreciate what I have to offer…" Catherine says, suddenly growing serious.

"Didn't even come to my mind. Really," he throws at her, mimicking her facial expression.

"Regarding your performance, Commander... how hard DID you try, really?" she says, shaking sad thoughts from her head that she doesn't want contaminating this moment.

"Seriously? I tried really hard NOT to hurt you..."

"Oh, so you're going to go with that, huh? I see… so had I NOT been injured, I'd be hungry and tired, right now?" Catherine says, giggling.

"Yes, you ARE," Steve says, smiling disarmingly at her." But if you maintain that you're not hungry, then I'll just have to eat all the eggs by myself. And leave, in shame. That kind of stuff destroys a man's ego, you know..."

"As if, Steven John McGarrett, as if..." she says, pensive, throwing him a suspicious glance.

"What?" he asks, playing the innocent card so well, it makes her laugh.

"You know damn well you wore me out," Catherine says quickly, in a sharp tone. Their banter is so familiar, it makes her heart ache with the knowledge that it will soon end.

He shrugs, pretending to be sorry for what he's about to say. "You know what people say, _'if you didn't leave her shaking in the knees, you did not do your job well_'."

…"'_And if the neighbours don't know your name by now_', too?"

"You said it, not me." He shrugs, smug.

"Funny. Real funny."

"So… ARE you hungry?" he asks, dropping the eggy mixture onto the frying pan.

"Eggs will do… for now," she answers, taunting him with a naughty smile.

"Wow, aren't we feeling impish this morning..." he laughs openly at her, brows slightly furrowed. Then, getting serious, he moves closer, grabbing her by the waist again. "I haven't felt this happy and free in a very long time. It's as though, suddenly, the black clouds hovering over my head have cleared and let the sun shine through." As he looks her in the eye, Steve leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

"Well, I'm not going to have you here forever, now am I? I have to make the most of it..."

Steve releases her and goes back to the eggs, turning off the burner. Catherine looks at him in bewilderment, wondering how they went from him showing up at her door the night before, unannounced, to him now standing in her kitchen, making scrambled eggs that she didn't even know she had. A warm, fuzzy feeling invades her, much like comfort food does, and she can't help but smile.

"You know, you turning up at my door, yesterday… and what happened afterwards, was very unexpected," she concludes, looking at him.

"Not from where I'm standing... I've been dreaming of this for weeks, now," Steve answers, smiling openly. He knows his best policy, at this point, is to be as honest as he can, if he has any chance of getting this woman back in his life, in any way, shape or form. And he wants that, with all his might.

"I'm glad to see that the Alpha male in you finally took action. Long time coming, this booty call, huh?" Catherine says, pensive. "Could've saved us both a lot of pent up sexual frustration," she continues, trying her best not to label what just transpired between them as anything more than what she just called it. Maybe if he agrees with her, they can move forward relatively unscathed, after having scratched their long-standing itch.

But Steve is not the type of man to go to this much trouble for a booty call, and she knows it. Much less if the object of his search is the woman in front of him, who has been populating his daydreams for the longest time. In fact, he's pretty sure, by now, that he only momentarily forgot about her due to sheer force of will, aggravated by anger, coupled with desperation about the fact that she was gone for good, or so he thought. So he tells her that, in no uncertain terms.

"Again, you're mad if you think that I came all the way from Afghanistan, to come knocking on your door on a cold, winter's night, to what? Get laid? A booty call? That's not what this is, Catherine, and I'm not that kind of man," Steve says, his expression turning serious, "though it's been a long while for me too" he says, smiling at her.

"Oh, come on, Steve... can we please not go there?" Catherine answers, losing the smile and looking him straight in the eye.

"I'm not 'going there', I'm just answering you. Sincerely. I'm starting to wonder if you're happy I'm still here or if you wish I had left already. Booty call-style," he goes on, now annoyed at her. It's been a long time since they've been together as boyfriend and girlfriend, and he's starting to think that maybe she's changed, maybe he doesn't know her that well anymore. Or maybe her damn job changed her.

Shaking her head, Catherine thinks back to the day she left Hawaii and Steve, and realises he has a point. She smiles warmly at him, and reaches for his arm, stroking it lightly.

"I'm very happy you're here. I'm very happy to have woken up with you in my bed. I'm very happy you showed up at my door yesterday and that we made love." She can tell he's happy that she's being sincere.

"I knew that, had you absolutely decided against us, you would've kicked my ass when I kissed you and shown me the door."

"Don't think that I wasn't tempted. But you're…. you. I guess that's the best way to describe it. You hold a very special place in my heart. And I've definitely missed this… whatever it may be. A girl has needs."

"I'm hearing you talk and I'm feeling cheap. Like I just performed a service. I know you don't really mean it," Steve says, half amused, trying to gauge just how serious she's being.

"… Don't I, now?" she answers, lost in thought.

"What gives, Cath? Why are you being so guarded? Why can't we talk about us?" He finally says it, but his joy is short lived.

"Us? There is no US!" Catherine becomes agitated, breaking free of his hold.

"Why?" Steve's heart is breaking all over again.

"I'll tell you why - you live in Hawai'i and I've been running black ops for the CIA for three years. Plus, there's our personal circumstances, you think, for a moment, that I want an occasional 'friends with benefits' relation with you? How many more reasons do you want?" She's angry now, her voice aggressive, sorry for the mess they've made of this.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, genuinely oblivious to what she's referring to.

She falters in her bravado, the defiance in her abating, something in her softening towards him. She's quiet for a moment.

"Steve, look… I won't pretend, last night and this morning was… magical, beautiful, wonderful."

His groin responds to her words with a faint reverberation. "That, Cath, is the understatement of the century," he says, absentmindedly fingering the end of a long strand of her hair.

"And no one will ever take those memories away from us…"

"Or the memories of the days and nights to come…" he murmurs, chuckling softly when she turns an appealing shade of pink.

"It was… unbelievable," she says again, nervously folding the hem of her dressing gown.

A warning flags in Steve's brain – he suddenly comes nearer, puts one arm around her and with the other forces her to look at him. "But?"

"But… so much has gone on between us, so much is still going on with each one of us…" She mutters, miserably.

Panic. Swift and sharp, it makes his stomach dip as if their future together has just been cut short by a cruel fiend. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying to keep his voice level.

She drops her gaze again, and he stares intently at her, uneasiness in him swelling.

"Steve, I don't want a relationship with you or anyone else, right now. Can't you just… you know? Forget this ever happened and go back to your life?" Her tears are falling freely, right now, but he's so surprised at her words, he doesn't move.

Her meaning finally sinks in; his worst fears are confirmed and her rejection tears through him, a pain sharper than the first time. Steve's a mix of feverish, jittery, unsettled and rushed, adrenaline punishing him for his audacity. He's been wanting her ever since she showed up at his door, in Montana, so letting go of her is unthinkable, right now. He tries to delay what's inevitably coming up next.

"We're not promised tomorrow, you know? We have today," Steve says, and the tone of his voice is the saddest that has ever come out of his mouth. "If my transplant taught me anything, it was that. Regardless of what happens next, Catherine, you'll always have my heart." He looks her in the eye, pointedly, and pauses for 5 seconds. "Always. You're my best friend. So let me love you one last time, like I'm going to lose you, like I'm saying goodbye. I don't want to think about what happens tomorrow. Just give me that, please."

She cries all the way to the bedroom, on his lap, unable to join two words together. Knowing this will be their last time ever, his heart constricts with sadness, sure that he will never get back the part of him that had died, the day she'd left. Their coupling is all-consuming, irrational, intense, and wild. He wants to memorise every curve of her body, the electrifying touch of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the way she begs for more when she's about to come and cry 'Steve!', how she looks him deep in the eye and sinks her fingernails into his back at the pleasure he gives her, molding into him and not wanting him to pull out afterwards.

Before he leaves, he begs her to stay in touch, but he knows she won't. Desperation takes a hold of both of them; maybe severing all ties is best, but he still hopes she won't do it. _"I still need you in my life, Cath,"_ are his final words to her, before he grabs his trusted duffle bag and heads out.

As she closes the door to her flat, Catherine leans against it and sinks down onto the floor, silently saying goodbye to the only man she has ever truly loved. Tears have started to flow freely, again, and her heart wants nothing more than to call him back, but her mind stands her ground, knowing this is her only option, if she wants to regain some of her dignity and maintain it. Praying that Steve manages to find the happiness that has always eluded him, Catherine cries herself to sleep on the floor.


End file.
